Down The Rabbit Hole
by casket4mytears
Summary: After departing Forks with the rest of the Cullen family, Alice becomes increasingly preoccupied with the information revealed to Bella by James about her life as a human and the vampire who changed her... and seeks answers.
1. Notes and Disclaimer

**NOTES/DISCLAIMER**

_"I read that letter, just last week__  
__You were telling me the darkness had taken you__  
__and it had only lasted a week__  
__I don't know where your saviour is...__  
__Check the back room__  
__He's writing the book that describes the end__  
__as you're passing this life_  
_Now I see it: it's a doorway_  
_It's a doorway to my love..."_

_The Streets Fell Into My Window - The Red Paintings_

This story serves to fill in the gaps between James' revelations and Alice's discovery of her birth name and family. I've often felt Alice and her history were rather skimmed over in the books, and as a huge fan of her character, I felt robbed. After all, if one remains in the state they were in prior to transformation (as per Meyer's statements), and Alice was entirely abandoned without any memories, how did she know even know her name, despite not knowing anything else? My desire is to explain that, while also having fun exploring the relationships within the Cullen family.

I haven't written fanfiction since my teens; be kind and hopefully you'll enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author; they merely vacation in my brain now and again. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is a work of fiction and is not based on any actual events. No implications about publicly recognizable places, settings, people etc. are to be made based upon the events of this work.


	2. Prologue: Run, Rabbit, Run

_AN:  
_

**_(July 2009) This story has been nominated in two categories for the Indie TwiFic Awards_**

**__****Category: **

**_Best Canon Complete  
Best Characterizations (non Edward/Bella) Complete_**

**_If you love what you read, please consider supporting this story (or Through The Looking-Glass or Disc Jockeys - all 3 are up for awards) at _**

_**theindietwificawards dot com  
**_

* * *

**Prologue: Run, Rabbit, Run**

_Jackson, MS. 1920_

"Alice? Alice, please, get up!"

The man whispered urgently, his eyes wide with fear, deep ebony pools set against an impossibly ashen face. His clothes, a simple white shirt and matching slacks, the garb of an orderly, were streaked with dirt and unkempt. He nudged her firmly, but gently, mindful of his strength against her fragile bird-like frame, his cool hands shocking her slightly from her reverie.

"Mmhmm?"

"Alice, it's time to walk. Up we go, now."

Her head lolled side to side, then slumped down against her gown, her ebony locks, jagged from the shears of the groomers, a sharp contrast against the creamy fabric. The man cursed his poor luck as it dawned on him that his Alice would not rise easily: she'd had a shock treatment this morning. She was always near catatonic for days after these affairs, brutal regimens of electrical current sent through her already precarious mind for her 'delusional disorder' and 'hysteria'.

No matter; he would carry her then. It would possibly prove awkward once they'd fled the asylum's gates, but by then, he'd be within the forested areas surrounding the Mississippi shores, and with their cover, he would utilize his unnatural advantages to speed her from the impending harm. It would be the only hope in hell they'd have of escaping _him_ outside, for _he_ would certainly not hold back on his speed and agility. _No_, the man mused sadly, _his thirst for blood was too great, too consuming, for him to allow any sort of head start_.

The man knew but one thing: the wolf could not have this lamb. _Not her._ And no matter how deeply he encouraged the doctors to bury her within the rabbit holes and oubliette-like cells within the dank walls of the asylum, _he_ would find a way in. His was a mind of granite, of firm resolution that could not be swayed or appeased. His taunting notes of the last week had promised that he would obtain that which he coveted, that rare flower that brightened the man's weary days of self-denial, and he would suck her sweet nectar dry in the most obscene manner possible.

The elaborate descriptions of the planned torture and eventual demise of Mary Alice Brandon had given way tonight to a single word scrawled on parchment: _SOON._ The man knew his time was drawing to a close; he had no choice but to act. His instincts told him that he could not meet the Hunter in battle and win; his nature told him he could not allow his Alice to perish. His only choice remaining, he figured, was to remove her allure by becoming a Hunter himself.

A high-pitched wail sounded from one of the nearby solitary cells, likely from Delia Gates, who wept nightly for the loss of her children, tearing at her own flesh in fits of rage with her fingernails, long cat-like scratches and half-moons creeping across her arms like vines stretching towards the sun. The orderlies would not pay her any mind; those in solitary were considered 'lost souls', not worth the effort of saving. Many, like the petite young woman before him, had families who'd dismissed them so completely that they'd written them off as deceased in various ways, moving forward and forgetting all about their troubled children, husbands, or wives.

It was as if their love simply dried up upon learning that their family member or friend would never be the perfect ideal composed in their narrow minds, sketched from societal expectations and selfish desires. It was these patients that the man cherished the most, for he, too, was lost, long forgotten, a footnote in a family bible, a vague memory passed on from generation to generation.

His lithe, muscular body suddenly sprang upright and alert, his auburn locks tumbling across his cheek as his dark eyes glazed over. He could see the Hunter, his smile widening, his sturdy frame assembling a light traveling pack. He would be on the move soon. In his hands, he held a copy of the architectural drawings of the asylum. He studied it, turning the page counter-clockwise, then nodded slightly. His lips moved, speaking aloud: _This will be too easy._

The man shook the vision from his mind and stooped down, pulling Alice to her feet easily, his six-foot frame towering over hers easily by a foot or so. As if tending to a child, the daughter he'd never watched grow, he maneuvered her arms into the dressing gown he'd purchased from the shop, a flannel gown draping to her ankles, a simple pattern of daises woven into the fabric. Alice murmured slightly, her eyes shut, wide awake and dreaming. Scooping her up into his arms, he cradled her to his cold chest, her head instinctively leaning against him.

"Alice, we're very late," he whispered.

"Oh dear," she sighed, her right hand drawing towards her mouth, her thumb slipping between her parched, thin lips.

The steel door of her cell, a small 8' by 8' room with a straw mattress upon the floor, gave way to a dimly-lit corridor in the bowels of the asylum, the exposed brick lending to a slight musky odour in the basement halls. Listening and glancing each way thrice, the man made his way towards the eastern hall, where the laundry lay, unlocked in preparation for this precise moment. He had twenty minutes before he was expected to return to the main floor, more than adequate time to depart beyond the reach and reproach of the law and the hospital personnel. He only hoped it would be enough to elude and confuse the Hunter.

The click-slap of his shoes along the floor was scarcely noticeable as he moved quickly, a slight breeze rippling through his pants. Were he able to feel it, a bitter cold would be snapping at his legs, but he was always cold now, even on the brightest sunny days, the days he spent indoors reading or sketching the wildlife outside his simple wooden home.

Alice's body shuddered slightly now, and the man took care to not press her too tightly to him, lest his own body temperature bring hers down further. A coincidental shriek from Delia masked the swinging of the laundry door as he shoved his way through, the door slamming shut behind him as he hurried to the open window above the corner sinks. The smell of lye soap was an affront to his acute sense of smell, and for this he moved even quicker, propping Alice's rag-doll frame in the sink as he slithered out into the gardens, his long, pale arms dangling back inside to pull her free.

A vision: the Hunter was nearing the asylum. Perhaps five minutes away now. He moved decisively, cockily, victory assumed to be his.

A scant sprinkling of stars lit the sky, a new moon overhead, as the man easily tossed Alice over his left shoulder. He heard her murmur softly of tea and cakes, and he giggled in spite of the direness of the situation.

"No, no," he whispered gently, "No time for the Mad Hatter's party, tonight, dear Alice. Tonight, we are the rabbits, and to our hole we must go."

"Blood-red jelly and crisps... Crunch, crunch..."

"Soon. But now, we run. Keep your eyes closed, sweet Alice."

"...'S a surprise tea party... Eyes closed, but seeing... Always seeing..."

Whispering a prayer to a God he was no longer sure listened, the man clung tightly to his muse, and ran.


	3. Chapter 1: A Grin Without A Face

**Chapter 1: A Grin Without A Face**

_Ithaca, NY. Present Day._

_"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edward?"_

_Eyes, staring, growing larger as the camera zooms in, framing the young girl's pale face, her shaking shoulders._

_"I'm sorry, but I just don't think he'll be able to resist hunting me after he watches this. And I wouldn't want him to miss anything. It was all for him, of course…."_

The young woman sat cross-legged, clad in black designer jeans, straight cut to emphasize her petite and slender frame, and a crimson peasant blouse, surrounded by antique furniture draped in stained drop cloths. The picture window beside her streamed sunlight into the room, but she remained half-tucked behind the couch in the western corner, back pressed against the cherry wood frame hidden safely from paint spatter. In her hands lay a digital palm-sized camcorder, the battery light warning of 5 minutes remaining, the green playback light shuddering slightly, as if exerting itself. And perhaps it was; this was the seventeenth time she'd rewound and played the gruesome film. Her spiky locks ruffled slightly from the open window's cool breeze, but the chill could not touch her. The shiver that ran up her spine now was purely psychological reflex, and horror.

_"When the old one knew I was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked — I never will understand the obsession some vampires seem to form with you humans — and as soon as he freed her he made her safe. She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions…"_

"Alice?" A voice called gently from two floors down.

_"Alice," the terrified young girl echoed, her face pained with sympathy for her friend._

"Bella…" the young woman whispered, her left index finger drifting to the screen to caress her face.

Footsteps approached cautiously up the ornate spiral staircase of the aging house, running shoes connecting with wood, the smell of turpentine drifting upwards with them. The young woman could not look away from the screen.

_"And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to taste… She smelled even better than you do…"_

The tall blond man entered the room quietly, no door to open left on the frame. Esme had removed it, intending to re-finish it. His black silk dress shirt hugged his lean but chiseled frame, his deep blue slacks loose, but well-tailored. Alice had chosen the outfit for him on one of her many shopping expeditions. With a sad sigh, he swept his unkempt hair backwards with a quick motion of his fingers and sat behind the young woman he loved so dearly, his arms wrapping about her slight frame.

"You need to stop torturing yourself with that," he whispered.

_"No, Edward, don't—"._

_A sickening crash. Blood running down Bella's face, her tiny frame crumpling in a heap._

The woman's hands touched a key on the side of the camcorder, and it rewound. She pressed play.

_"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edward?"_

"Alice… Please talk to me."

Her eyes no longer focused on the screen before her. She was searching deep within her mind, desperately reaching for a glimmer of the past revealed by James in his murderous glee in May. There was nothing there, nothing to tether her mind to, save a fuzzy recollection of a leather-bound book, the title obscured.

_"You see, the vampire who was so stupidly fond of this little victim made the choice that your Edward was too weak to make. When the old one knew I was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked…"_

Jasper shook her slightly, attempting to break the sadistic hold the video held over her. Her grip remained steadfast and sure, and his acute hearing detected the faintest whisper escape from her lips:

"I need to…"

"_The one victim who escaped me, quite an honor, actually…"_

The young woman strained, stretching her eyes further inside her head, digging through to the earliest visions she could recall: the young man named Jasper, who she saw at her side, his impossibly pale body lying beside her in a meadow alongside the Ohio river; the blonde man with the kind eyes, his doctor's bag clutched in hand, hurrying into a house… And there was nothing to find, no shred of evidence at all. Her brow furrowed in anger.

_The girl flew into the mirrors, her body brutally slung into them with inhuman force. Reflected in the glass: a brief image of James' grin. The Cheshire Cat, smiling, having won his game._

The battery light blinked out with a final sputter. The screen faded to black.

"Alice, please…?"

Alice sat the camera down gingerly, her taut body finally relaxing as she sunk into the welcoming arms behind her, inhaling the scent of the one she couldn't be without, the only one she trusted with her darkest worries, the ones she hid behind her trilling laughter.

"Jazz, I'm sorry. I was trying to remember –"  
Jasper's fingers traced her lips as he rested his head upon her bare left shoulder, peering at her face, "I know. But nothing has come in the last few weeks. Maybe it's time to accept that whatever happened, it was erased from your mind. And maybe it's for the best that you don't recall the specifics."  
Alice grunted, "Easy for you to say. You at least know who you were… Understand how you became what you are."  
Jasper sighed, "And what good has that done me, truly? Does it make the thirst easier to ignore? Did it make it easier for me to not devour my brother's beloved?"

Alice sighed, turning her body quickly to face Jasper's troubled eyes. He was still not over the incident at Bella's party. She'd known this, of course, for Jasper was so much a part of her essence that his thoughts were as natural to her as her own. But to hear him speak of it broke her heart, and cut deeply, reminding her of the last few weeks: Edward's excruciating silence; Carlisle's guilt, born of being the one to condemn Edward to the life of a vampire in the first place; her own deep sorrow at losing Bella, someone she'd grown to embrace as a sister and dear friend from the moment the future became clear; and Esme's sorrow, watching her son grieve what she had longed for many years to be his.

It was only in the last few weeks that she'd begun obsessing over the video, the camcorder having been misplaced and forgotten until they'd moved to Ithaca to begin anew. Having declined to attend Cornell with Jasper, she'd spent many hours contemplating the revelations of the monster who'd attacked Bella, wondering about the vampire that had turned her, how James had come to desire her, and the most difficult question of all: who was she, before this immortal existence?

"Jasper, no one begrudges you your struggles, Edward least of all. Even Bella didn't blame you for a moment. Although that girl truly is a magnet for trouble and danger to the nth degree. I really cannot imagine an individual with worse luck."

Jasper grunted, averting his eyes, his fists clenching, his jaw set. Alice knew this expression: it was Jasper attempting to be 'strong', to not reveal weaknesses like sorrow. Her hands took hold of his cheeks and raised his eyes to meet hers, his glimmering gold from his hunting trip two days' prior.

"Jazz, I don't even know my real name. I can't even recall why I decided I was Alice in the first place. What if I'm not an Alice after all? And if I was in an asylum, did I have family? Who changed me?" Alice halted her rapid-fire speech, shaking her head to clear it of the emotional fog overtaking her, "You are my soul mate, and this is my family, and I would not trade that for anything, not even to return to being human. But I want to understand myself. A door I always believed hopelessly closed, a door I felt I would never be able to walk through, is here, and I'm holding the key to unlock it. Can you truly blame me and think me foolish for wanting to open it?"

Jasper's pained expression relaxed, a small smile creeping over him, as he planted a kiss upon Alice's forehead. Alice threw her arms around him, clutching him as if he would shatter and scatter along the floor were she to let go, pearls tumbling from a broken strand upon the wood panels.

"I see your point. But you do recall from our years of schooling, our _endless_ years of schooling, the story of Pandora?"  
Alice laughed, "Pandora… Pandora… Vaguely familiar. Who's that? Does she design clothes?"  
"I don't know. Something about a box? Maybe she designed that," Jasper teased.  
"Ah, yes. I think the box was bad in that story. But a door is not a box, is it? It's more a portal." Jasper nodded, "Indeed. Shall we, love?"

With a swift, graceful motion, Jasper rose to his feet, his 6'3" body towering over the pixie-like woman before him. Alice leapt to her feet, her 2-inch stillettos nowhere near enough to bridge the height gap between them. As was their custom, when alone, Jasper lifted her up, her arms and legs wrapping about him, and they shared a slow, gentle kiss. They were the antithesis to Emmett and Rosalie, whose antics often destroyed their abodes and the furniture within in record time; their passion was a slow-burn, an eternal flame holding steady, each caress reminiscent of the first in its shyness and simultaneous fervor. Pulling back to gaze into his eyes, Alice tousled Jasper's hair playfully, which led to him rolling his eyes and shaking it back into place.

"You know, you're rather like that movie character with this mop of yours styled this way... The one with the scissors and the fabulous eyes begging for eyeliner..."  
"Edward Scissorhands?"  
"Yes! Do you remember when we saw that in the theatre? We bought popcorn to simply throw it."  
"I suppose I have the pale skin and numerous scars to go with the role..."  
Alice shook her head, "I was thinking more of the movie star looks, the hair and the gentle soul, myself."  
"Do I have a soul?" Jasper murmured.  
Alice thought for a moment, "You know... Looking at Bella and Edward, at his ability to deny his thirst and love her so unequivocally... How could a creature without a soul love so honestly? Of course you do, Jazz."

Jasper smiled, kissing Alice's smooth forehead and setting her down gently, as if she would break in spite of her incredible strength. Her earnest belief in the positive in spite of all she'd endured was the one thing he'd always clung to when despairing over the life he'd chosen with the Cullens. Her smile lit his entire world; her laughter was his song. If Alice believed that even the undead could have souls, he would believe it too, if only to please her.

"I thought I heard you two up here!"

The couple turned and smiled at the sight of their adoptive mother, Esme, her warm caramel locks tied back loosely, varnish cans in hand. She sat them down upon the couch and embraced her children warmly.

"Come to help with the house, you two? It's too nice of a day to go outside," she quipped.  
"I came to think for a bit before hunting tonight," Alice replied, her tiny foot tucking the camcorder under the couch in an instant.  
"Hmm," Esme answered, her eyes searching Alice's face.  
"Since we're here, though, we could help if you like," Jasper offered quietly, reading Alice and knowing she didn't want Esme to know she'd watched the video again.  
"Oh that's quite all right. You two should spend some time together, now that you have the chance. Everyone else is off and about -"  
"Edward will be home today. He lost Victoria's trail," Alice interrupted, as a vision of Edward, head in hands, flashed through her mind.  
"Oh dear," Esme sighed, "He won't be happy without that distraction to keep from thinking of her."

_No_, Alice thought sadly, _He wouldn't_. Nor would he be pleased to know that she still saw Bella as a vampire in the future, no matter how far he attempted to remain from Forks. The last time they'd had that discussion, he'd insisted that it was a bad sign, one of Victoria changing her, and off he'd gone, tracking her scent somewhat hopelessly. Victoria was proving to be quite adept at evading them, and Edward was not a gifted tracker. She'd offered to accompany him before, but he'd insisted he needed to handle the matter himself. Alice missed him dearly, now more than ever.

"I'll have a talk with him again about taking some company," Alice thought aloud, eliciting a worried look from Jasper.  
"That would be safer. I don't want to lose any of you. I couldn't bear it," Esme agreed, "Losing her is hard enough..."  
"Three would be better. I'll go with you," Jasper stated, more fact than suggestion or offer.  
"Jazz, you have classes -"  
"Classes I have taken a million times, or so it seems to me -"  
"- And I will be okay out there. That is, if Edward allows me to follow him."  
Esme, sensing a quarrel brewing, reached for her varnish and brushes, making her way towards a tall oak china cabinet near the window, "There's no sense worrying about who will go with who until Edward arrives," she tossed thoughtfully over her shoulder.

Alice nodded, and Jasper let it go. He had little doubt that Edward would tell Alice to run off and shop and leave him be, and while half of him was very in favour of Alice staying safely put, half of him knew how lonely she felt without Edward around. They were easily the most bonded in terms of sibling relationships in the house, and at a time like this, with Alice tormenting herself with notions of locating traces of her past, he sensed that Edward's sensible approach to things might be the only way to convince Alice to move forward. He looked to her small face, noticing her eyes drifting into a haze. A vision was coming to her. Brief moments passed, and she shook loose from her mind and smiled.

"We have two hours before he arrives. The stream?"  
Jasper smiled, "Absolutely."

Jasper led the way from the room, Esme humming her favourite composition of Edward's quietly to herself as she worked. Alice tread nimbly behind him, running her fingertips through her hair, spiking the locks wilder. Inside her head, the video continued to play in the background, a steady hum insisting on her attention.

_"And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to taste… She smelled even better than you do…" _

_Oh Bella_, Alice thought sadly, _I'm the reason he hurt you so. Don't I owe it to you to find the truth? _


	4. Chapter 2: Predators

**Chapter 2: Predators**

_Ithaca, NY. Present Day._

Alice was standing beneath the weeping willow outside the Cullens' Ithaca residence for five minutes before Edward swung wildly into the drive, the silver Volvo heaving a shudder of protest as he cut the engine. Alice shook her head and made a note to check the engine before his next departure; he'd been running the car into the ground, apparently. As much as he loved cars, loved the speed with which the vehicles they indulged in could sail forth along freeways and back streets, he was no better than the average human male at understanding the intricacies that made the things run in the first place.

"I heard that," Edward muttered, stepping out onto the seamlessly interlocking bricks comprising the long driveway.  
"I counted on it," Alice replied, bemused.

Edward's eyes were jet-black, the circles beneath them running deep. His thirst was great. It had been a wise choice to postpone her own hunt from the afternoon. It would give them a chance to catch up properly, time to be alone. They both needed it. His rumpled grey sweater and black slacks looked well-worn - as in, 'worn for days'. Alice spied an excuse for a shopping trip, which sadly only brought half the usual elation.

He stepped forward and embraced her tightly, his bronze locks tumbling forward slightly as he leaned the great distance down to kiss her head, "You look as well as I do, Alice. What's wrong?"  
"Shh," she replied, "Esme will hear."

Edward nodded, then listened for the explanation he knew would spill forth momentarily in her obviously troubled mind.

_I need to find the asylum, Edward. I need to know what he was speaking of, learn as much as I am able. Jasper's not happy about the prospect of me departing solo. Hunting trip later, to discuss it?_

"I've missed you Alice, all of you. I'm rather thirsty... I think this is what humans call 'burning the candle at both ends', as best our kind can do so, anyway. Perhaps we could grab a bite to eat?"  
Alice smiled gratefully, "I'm rather famished myself. But first, you'd best say hello to the parents. They're been fretting since you departed, you know."  
"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Esme and Carlisle lingered in the large sitting room, just to the right of the opulent foyer of the home. Esme, as usual, had gone for a home with a slightly rustic feel, with high ceilings, exposed brick, and tasteful antique furniture arranged in open formations that invited one to relax. Were it feasible to keep to strange hours that avoided sunny days, Edward had little doubt that Esme would be an interior designer for the sheer joy of it. The living room was a blend of cast iron finishing touches and oak furniture, with a rocking chair in the west corner near the piano. Esme's smile gave way to a mothering frown at the sight of her son.

"Edward, I've been so concerned. You really need to keep in better touch, particularly now, what with the hunting and all..."  
"Esme, he's been careful, I'm sure," Carlisle interjected, placing a restraining hand on her right shoulder, a gentle reminder that he was quite old enough, far older than his 17 year-old face revealed.  
Edward smiled wanly, "No, she's right. I've been tracking alone and as such, it would be prudent to keep you more abreast of my whereabouts and success - or lack thereof," he sighed, the melancholy hanging thick in the air.

Esme embraced him warmly, her ice blue dress simple in cut, but stunning in contrast with her hair and golden eyes. Edward sighed, inhaling her scent. Esme always reminded him of home, had always been the one who conjured up what he believed to be his most human feelings. At least, before he met _her_...

Alice read his expression immediately, "I could check on her future, if you want. Just to be sure she's safe -"  
"No!" Edward rebuked sharply, frowning immediately with regret and softening his gaze, "No, Alice. I intruded upon her life far too much. And I already know without your gifts that she is anything but safe, with Victoria still on the loose. But I suppose... Is she still, in the future...?"  
Alice's eyes glazed over slightly, a brief moment of searching, "Hmm... Yes. She's still one of us. And she still comes to see me, as a newborn..."  
"Most likely to damn us for her fate."  
"Edward," Esme chastised, I'd wager it would be to be with you moreso than damnation. It's not as if she wasn't willing-"  
"I will NOT take her life from her, nor will I allow anyone else to. Bella is human, and shall be human until she meets her end. How many times has Rosalie spent days in rages or sorrow, mourning the loss of her humanity?"  
Carlisle's face clouded over, reminded of his persistent regrets regarding Rosalie, "But Edward, Rosalie did not ask me to save her. Bella asked to become one of us. There is a vast difference. You cannot deny that you wish to spend your life with her by your side -"  
"She deserves better than a monster," Edward interjected, his brow furrowed in stubborn determination.  
"- And you cannot tell me that the last two months, you have been living, truly living. You are worrying everyone, and shutting all of us out in your torment is the precise opposite of what you need right now, now that your soul mate is lost, be it of your own choice or not."  
"All that matters is what is best for Bella and her safety. I do not matter. I have never once argued or complained as we have moved about, nor have I ever judged anyone else for their personal demons, if you pardon the term. I refuse to be judged now."

Edward stormed out of the room, fists clenched, jaw set, his impossibly quick stride carrying him out the back door into the several acres of land the Cullens had secured that bordered on a forested area filled with deer. Esme's face tightened, her hands reaching for Carlisle, and he embraced her tightly.

"Too much, I wager."  
"Perhaps," Esme replied quietly, "Alice? Would you?"  
"Of course," Alice replied, her tiny feet treading lightly as she pursued Edward through the ornate back entryway into the dusk-covered fields.

_Edward, please wait. You're thirsty and irritable. They mean well._

A mile ahead, her sharpened sense of hearing detected his stride slowing to a halt. _Thank you. I need you, Edward. Please don't abandon me right now._

He was shaking slightly when she came up behind him, her tiny body towered over by his sturdy, tall form. With a slight bounce she tousled his hair gently, a teasing gesture he only permitted from her without complaint. He sighed, gazing out into the woods.

"I disappoint them. Just as I have disappointed her."  
Alice shook her head, taking his hand, "No. They just want your happiness Edward. We all do. Just as I am certain that the pain you suffer now would suffocate you if you were still alive and dependent upon the air, the change in you since leaving Forks has been excruciating for us to witness. Rosalie aside, and honestly, I don't ever fully understand her, we were all in your corner, willing your happiness to be eternal. Seeing you this way is devastating."

They walked, silently, near-gliding from the speed and grace of their kind. The forest welcomed them, leaves rustling as if to beckon them forth into its maze of wildlife and greenery. Alice guided Edward towards the stream, where she knew of a family of deer that would be lapping at the rippling waters at this time of night.

"I don't mean to cause them grief, Alice. I never wanted to cause her any, either. I am apparently incapable of decency and kindness to those I love."  
"Shh. Don't be absurd. It's too human a quality for you at this age," Alice mumbled wryly.  
"If I could find Victoria..."  
"You would still be miserable about losing Bella. I've told you this before, Edward: she is yours, and you are his. This distance, this... exile, it won't do a lick of good. You're fooling yourself."  
"Do you see that in your visions?" Edward muttered.  
"I see her as a happy vampire, at roughly the age she is now -"  
"Victoria."  
"As if she'd exact revenge by _turning_ Bella. Edward, please be serious. It is still in the realm of possibility."  
"I will not end her life, Alice."  
"Maybe I will, then."  
"Alice..."

His tone was a firm warning, and she let the subject drop. Her mind returned to the video, playing it back, frame by frame. There had to be something she could utilize to determine the truth of her origins. She refused to believe that fate had not deposited the video into her lap without cause, just as she had been meant to find Jasper and the Cullen family. Her first few days of being a vampire were a whirlwind of confusion and desperate survival. The clearest memory she could grasp onto was hiding out in a secluded area outside Columbus, Ohio. She'd possessed no identification, no clothes save the dress on her back, no items of possible significance. She'd simply known herself to be 'Alice'. Half of her wished James had not perished so quickly, without a chance to demand answers of him. But then, _her_ pleading face flickered through her mind again, and that small, porcelain girl, bleeding and in agony, called her name, and she remembered how satisfying it was to know of how many pieces Jasper and Emmett had torn him into.

Edward suddenly sat down upon a log, clutching his head in his hands, and Alice berated herself inwardly. He'd read her thoughts, seen what she'd seen over a dozen times today. _Foolish of you, Alice! _

"Oh Edward, I'm so sorry. I went silent and of course you grew curious..."  
"That's exactly why I cannot let myself be with her, no matter how much it devastates me, no matter how every fiber of my being aches without her at my side."  
"That was hardly your fault, Edward. But it does bring me to what I mentioned earlier..."  
Edward nodded, "James. He seemed genuine about his story."  
Alice settled onto the log beside him, "Indeed. I've watched that recording a hundred times now and the veracity of his speech leads me to believe I'm right in pursuing the link. The trouble is, I'm not entirely certain where to start. The first few days were a mess of confusion. I'd followed the water, stuck close to it as long as possible, trying to understand what I was. I know where I ended up: Columbus, Ohio. I diverted there after abandoning the water near Cincinnati. It was there I had my first vision of Jasper, which was the first time as a vampire that I felt like things would turn out well eventually. It was one hope that I could cling to. Over time, the lack of memory didn't matter to me much; I decided that maybe there was good reason for me not to recall my life, and even if I'd wanted to, there was very little I could do about the situation. But now..."  
"Now you have a starting point. Now, there is something to do."  
Alice plucked a blade of grass from the earth and ran it along her left palm absently, "Maybe. But Jasper would rather I forget it, let it go. The romantic fool is just distressed that I'm not bubbling over with joy."  
"Or maybe he knows from experience that forgetting one's past isn't necessarily a bad thing." Edward offered.

Alice frowned, rising to her feet, silently cursing Edward's insight. At the same time, how much worse could the truth possibly be at this point? She was locked away in an asylum - likely deemed 'crazy' for her visions, cared for by a vampire who attempted to protect her from James' murderous intent, only to be killed himself, leaving her alone and unable to understand what she had become, or why. And the odds that she would find the right asylum, let alone determine her identity as a human... What could it hurt to try?

"Not succeeding may hurt more than any answer you'd find, Alice," Edward answered aloud.

_Don't project your failure at locating Victoria - which isn't even the true source of your complete misery - onto me. _Alice headed swiftly towards the riverside, her thirst stinging the back of her throat. She'd let this go far too long, now; even a human sounded delicious at the moment, and that sort of craving very seldom bothered her now. Edward swiftly caught up, silent, understanding that the hunt would come before any further discussion.

After sating themselves with a pair of bucks and an aging doe, the pair sat alongside the water, skipping stones in friendly competition, speaking of nothing at first. Twilight had descended upon them, an animal stalking weary prey, and triggering a disturbing state of melancholy in Edward. Alice was at a loss as to how to either convince him that leaving Forks was a terrible idea that would accomplish nothing save heartache for both he and Bella, or to ease his emotional torment and help him move forward as he desired. She knew from her bond with Jasper that such connections simply _were_, and there was no fighting against their intensity. If she'd believed for one minute that she were capable of turning Bella without inadvertently killing the poor girl, she would be on the road to Forks the next day.

And what to do about Jasper? How could she explain that in spite of the deep love she felt for him, how much she trusted him with her entire being, that she wanted to pursue this alone? She felt incredibly guilty for the confusion she was causing him, especially now, given his lingering sense of guilt over Bella and, in turn, possibly driving Edward to a decision that had created a domino effect of unhappiness for the entire Cullen family. He'd actually dared to imagine leaving them all - Alice included - the night of the party; Alice had seen him wandering into Mexico alone, his face twisted in a silent scream of self-loathing. The thought of a life without Jasper had terrified her like nothing else. It was the same terror she'd seen in Edward's eyes as he'd cradled Bella in the dance studio, willing her to be alive. It was how she knew that they were simply meant to be as one, for eternity.

"The nights feel exponentially longer," Edward whispered.  
"I know," Alice murmured.  
"If you were to try and learn... If you were to choose a place to begin..."  
Alice's eye widened, "You're considering helping me?"  
"Helping us both," he corrected.

Alice looked at him askance as he rose and began meandering through the forest towards the family house. She followed close behind, her body twitching with nervous hope.

"I need distraction. You need closure. I need help with Victoria. If Bella taught me anything about myself, it is that without my ability to read minds, I am not precisely the most intuitive one in the room. Perhaps, if you were with me to catch her scent, you could catch a glimpse of her plans, or spot a possibility I have overlooked. That will be the story we tell as we depart. However, along the way, if you have a suggestion as to where to start..."  
Alice nodded furiously, "My only notion is to return to Cincinnati and work my way south along the water, attempt to determine what may or may not be familiar, dig into the asylums along the way. Maybe something will jump out at me."  
"My last concrete lead on Victoria was near Chicago. From there, it seemed to split into two, one heading east and the other headed south. I came home this way, hoping that east would work out. It didn't. Perhaps she doubled back; I suppose she picked up survival skills from her time with James."  
Alice mulled this over, "We could start in Chicago. Cincy isn't fair away from there..."  
Edward stopped abruptly, taking hold of Alice's shoulders and staring into her deep eyes, studying her face, "Are you certain you should do this alone?"

Alice nodded, her answer silently affirmed in her thoughts_: It's something I must do. _

"Very well, then. You're on your own with Jasper, though."  
Alice threw her arms around Edward, child-like in her enthusiasm, "I'll find a way to convince him, somehow."  
Edward chuckled, "I think if he were around right now, I'd have to make a wager with Emmett on this one..."  
Alice laughed, heading swiftly towards the house, "Edward, haven't you learned by now? You _never_ bet against Alice."  
Edward smiled, "Who said I would?"


	5. Chapter 3: Prey

**Chapter 3: Prey**

_Vicksburg, MS, 1920_

The man fussed with the hemline of the dress, tugging it downward, willing it to be longer, more modest. He'd purchased it by sight several days' prior, a simple cotton dress with long sleeves that appeared to swallow Alice's slender arms, the cut of it straight down and flowing outward slightly beyond the waist, the pleated skirt of the bright blue fabric adding to the outward effect through illusion. The street vendor had assured him from his descriptions of 'his daughter' that it would fit, but the length seemed too immodest to avoid attention. For much of their journey towards Chicago, Alice needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The skirt barely passed her pale knees.

Alice remained oblivious, flipping through the illustrations of the leather-bound tome they'd shared nightly in the asylum for the last year. Her tiny fingers traced the illustrations of the cat, of its enormous grin, and particularly the Mad Hatter. He recalled a conversation several months ago, while he'd re-read the tea party section to her:

"_What is mad, Alistair?"_

"_Well, Alice, mad implies crazy. Someone who's lost their wits, if you will. Usually the mad speak in riddles, or a logic that most people cannot follow."_

_Alice pondered this a moment, "Hmm… Does that make me mad, then?"_

_Alistair shook his head, "They believe you are mad, yes, but one need not be truly mad to be thought of as mad in today's world. Anyone who is different in any way at all is mad, as far as the good doctors are concerned."_

"_But I'm not mad, then?"_

"_No, dear Alice. You have a different way of seeing, but you are very clever. You're just too different. You scare them."_

_Alice had risen, wandering to the farthest wall, clutching her sheet around her as if it were a shawl. Her eyes glazed over, staring into the wall, her mind far away._

"_Mother used to strike me, calling me mad. I was always so confused. I was a happy child. I wasn't angry with her, even when she struck me so."_

Alistair smiled warmly at his charge, reaching out to turn her eyes towards his deep black pools. Alice smiled with recognition, her reverie broken, the book abandoned in her lap. Her doll-like hands reached out to hold his face, the lighting in the dark cave somewhat better than the asylum where she'd spent the last 7 years.

"This dress will have to do, I'm afraid. I will buy you more soon."

"I like it. Alice wears a blue dress."

Alistair smiled, "Yes, yes she does. Are you hungry at all?"

Alice's brow furrowed, "It's not breakfast time. Won't they be cross if I'm given extra?"

Alistair chuckled, reaching out his hands to pull Alice to her bare feet, twirling her around slowly, so as not to dizzy her fragile mind. She laughed, the laughter of a small child, and it warmed him in a way nothing had in a hundred years.

"They won't be mad, sweet girl. Don't you see? You're free now. You're not going back to the place where no one understands your gift. We shall live with our gifts and be grateful for them, find others who see their beauty. No one will call you mad ever again.

We can go to tea parties?"

"Yes! Every day, if you so wish. We have a bit of travel ahead of us, but after, we will have a glorious tea party. Oh, there is so very much to show you!"

Alice giggled, stepping backwards to twirl herself in circles, stumbling slightly, her limbs somewhat atrophied from years of restricted movement. Her eyes caught sight of the book where it had tumbled from her lap, and she reached out to take hold of it, cradling it against her small bosom.

"White rabbits and mad hatters! Oh, my…."

"Dormice and forests and Cheshire cats -" Alistair began, breaking off as an unbidden vision stormed into his consciousness.

_The Hunter. He stood outside the asylum, obviously angry. He'd found her gone, realized that Alistair had absconded with her in the night. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch her scent in the crisp night air. After a minute's hesitation, he sped westward, seething at his plan being foiled._

Alistair frowned. The Hunter had taken the bait, but something still felt wrong. Somehow, he sensed this delay would not hold the Hunter back for long. Unfortunately, the secondary plan might prove necessary sooner, rather than later.

Alistair perused the satchel he'd packed for the next leg of their trip, running down a mental checklist. He'd stolen strong sedatives from the hospital, to keep Alice from witnessing his speed as he transported them quickly along the Mississippi, as well as biscuits and cakes and a flask of water for her consumption. The next safe shelter he'd set up for their trip lay near the northern border of the state, in an abandoned log cabin in the forest. It would take very little time to reach it, even with Alice slung over his shoulder.

_No need to take chances. Now is the time._

"Alice, darling, would you like some biscuits? A quick tea party before we leave?"

Alice clapped her hands excitedly, "Oh yes! Please, can we?"

Alistair smiled widely, handing her a small kerchief containing scones and biscuits. As she enthusiastically set upon the treats, Alistair crushed two sedatives between his fingers and slipped them into the flask, passing it to her carefully.

"Drink up. You must remain hydrated for the big trip."

Alice nodded, drinking from the flask then stuffing another biscuit into her mouth, tiny fingers brushing aside stray crumbs from her lips. Alistair went to work in the cave, securing the book inside the satchel, fastening his long overcoat and preparing hers. His mind sought out the Hunter, desperately seeking a sense of time remaining. In his mind, he saw the old woman to whom he'd given Alice's asylum gown, using it as a blanket on a darkened doorstep. She lived still, and was calm, if melancholy. He knew the Hunter would not see her without attempting to draw out answers in his violent manner; he had not yet reached her. They had two hours' safety at best.

Alice yawned, stretching her arms skyward, "I'm so sleepy…"

"Like the dormouse."

"Yes… Oh, bother… Might I sleep? We have to travel. I mustn't… delay…"

Alistair shushed her gently, "You're a wee thing. I shall carry you. Sleep, dear Alice, and dream of tea parties."

Alice settled into the corner, her knees tucking into her chest as she curled up on her left side, murmuring about tea and rabbits. Alistair counted to a hundred slowly, then easily scooped her into her arms. Tossing her over his right shoulder, the satchel over his left, he stepped out into the dusky forest, and fled north with his charge, cutting through the water's edge to mute their trail.


	6. Chapter 4: A Trial

**Chapter 4: A Trial**

_Ithaca, NY, present day_

The light dusting of stars overhead held Alice's attention, their slight expansions and contractions as they burned millions of miles away a rhythmic pattern that held sway over her mind as she fumbled with the best way to deter Jasper from following her on this possibly hopeless quest for answers. Edward had wandered off somewhere, perhaps with Esme to the house she was restoring, a gesture of apology for his temper flaring at Carlisle earlier. Jasper had not emerged despite her long absence from the house, yet Alice felt him near her regardless, felt his concern and love emanating, tendrils reaching out to embrace her, desperately seeking to retrain her from flights of seeming fancy.

The winds whispered to her, and she listened carefully, seeking guidance in how best to win what would be a near-impossible uphill battle against an experienced soldier. Lying was out of the question: he would see through her, see her soul and its true plans, in a heartbeat. No, lying would not suffice nor succeed. This would be a battle of wits, and Alice feared his sense of reasoning.

Behind her, the faintest _click_ of a door betrayed Jasper finally stepping outside to engage her. Alice smiled in spite of her worry; his very existence brightened her world, and brought tremendous peace to what had been a tumultuous existence. She rose from the earth, inhaling deeply out of habit, years of pretending to be human deeply engrained: _nervousness causes the 'gulp' reaction; panic creates hyperventilation…_

"If you were planning to stay all night, I would have been happy to join you outside," Jasper commented absently.

Alice turned to face him, forcing a relaxed smile, "I was distracted by the stars, I suppose."

"You? Distracted?" Jasper chuckled, leaning back to dodge a playful slap from Alice's swift right hand.

They stared into each other's eyes for several minutes, a flurry of words and emotions exchanging in the silence. Each anticipated the other's thoughts. Each knew what the other was feeling. It was the mute introduction to a Shakespearean play: two lovers, destined to be apart due to circumstance, both afraid to be alone and both knowing they were at an impasse.

"Edward said you're leaving to track Victoria tomorrow?"

Alice nodded, "He's hopeless at tracking. He needs help."

"He loves Bella too much not to try."

"Typical tortured lover, straight from a pastoral play. It would be almost humorous if his misery weren't so acute and genuine."

"I see him more as a Greek philosopher, myself," Jasper mused, "He thinks far too much of consequences and improbable futures for a simple pastoral character."

"Takes one to know one, perhaps?" Alice queried, studying Jasper's slightly disgruntled look.

Jasper sighed, staring into the sky, his hand instinctively reaching for and finding Alice's. He held it gently, his thumb drawing faint circles against her skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine. _He's not going to play fair_, Alice warned herself. _I have to stay adamant._

"Edward agrees with you, you know."

Jasper looked down, surprised, "How so?"

"He believes that the past is best left there, sometimes. That failure to find the answers I seek will hurt me more."

"But he's willing to help you, isn't he?" Jasper grunted.

"Yes and no," Alice answered, purposefully evasive, "He simply understands why I feel I have to do this."

"And why do you have to do this, Alice? You know more than you ever knew. You know the key things: you were alone because your creator was killed for turning you as a means of saving you from death at James' hands, and you remember nothing as a human because you were locked away in a dark room, deemed mentally disturbed by your family or society."

"Because fairytales need happy endings, but they need beginnings as well. How do we appreciate how far the princess has come without understanding her time as a scullery maid for the wicked stepmother? How do we appreciate the depths of a prince's love without knowing of his heroic slaying of dragons to reach her castle walls?"

Jasper remained silent, his expression softening as he pulled Alice towards him, pressing her into his sturdy chest. If Alice had a beating heart, it would have leapt into her throat as she relaxed against him, her hands reaching up to play with the ends of his hair, twirling them about her fingertips. When he spoke at last, his voice was low, barely audible as he buried his face in her hair.

"Am I your fairytale then?"

"You're my only fairytale, Jasper. You rescued me in every way."

"Then why won't you let the prince accompany the fair maiden, lest there be dragons?"

Alice sighed, biting her lower lip in frustration. Half of her wanted to assent, to just let Jasper follow her, wherever her instincts might lead her. The other half – only slightly stronger, in the face of Jasper's persistence – knew that somehow, this was a journey for one person to make. That Jasper's overprotective nature might hinder her path, should she grow upset at whatever she might find.

"Jasper, you have classes to attend, appearances to maintain. Do you really want to follow me around as I find out just how crazy I was? Would you really want to see the sort of dark room they kept me in for who knows how long? Would imagining me suffering there make it easy for you not to boil over, perhaps to the point of snapping an asylum worker's neck?"

Jasper shuddered violently, pulling away and storming towards the house. Alice sprinted easily ahead of him, planting herself in his path, head hung apologetically.

"That wasn't a nice thing to say. I'm sorry, Jazz. I have faith in your restraint."

Jasper shook his head, "You try to, but we know how often I waver. I'm just tired of being a liability to you."

Alice frowned, "Now you're beginning to sound like Edward."

"Lovers sound crazy when they love intensely as we do. As Plato would point out, 'love is a serious mental disease'."

"And is it more serious when one loves a diseased mind?" Alice murmured.

"I prefer 'fascinating' mind, personally. Many great thinkers were thought to be deranged for being so far from the box that thinking out of it was grand understatement. You were simply gifted in a way ahead of that time."

Alice shook her head, "Philosophy majors are ridiculous to argue with. Off you go, sidetracking onto the nature of mental illness, now. Are you hoping that I will forget that I'm asking you to stay behind?"

"No," Jasper responded quietly, "I'm hoping you won't ask me to survive without your light."

"I will always come back to you, Jazz. Always. The fates won't allow it to be any other way. We simply _are_. I believe Plato also wrote that 'he whom Love touches not walks in darkness'. You will always be loved by me; you will always be bathed in light, even in the darkest twilights."

Jasper chuckled heartily, "And he also wrote that with Love's touch, everyone becomes a poet. And you, sweet girl, are apparently no exception!"

Alice grumbled, kicking the earth in frustration. Jasper scooped her into his arms as she protested vehemently, carrying her upstairs towards their room with mumbled reassurances that her girlish side was a safely held secret between them. Mere moments passed before Alice was delicately strewn atop a pale blue satin sheet, her head nestled upon several lacy throw pillows. It was one of these that she threw viciously at Jasper's head, to very little effect save increased laughter from his lips.

"I was not done talking to you," Alice snapped.

"Nor am I. But we have a good seven hours of sleepless night before Edward requests your company, and I really don't desire to spend them all arguing with you about this," Jasper commented, stretching out alongside her petite frame, unlacing the front of her now rumpled crimson top.

"So agree with me, then," Alice whispered, fumbling with the top button of his shirt.

"Alice," he sighed, his fingers grazing her cheeks, "I do believe half of this is me being selfish. I've been so close to slipping, lately… What if…?"

"Shh," she said, a finger placed along his lips, "I have been keeping a steady watch for that. I'd know it in a heartbeat. I'd return, or call you to me."

"I'm just so… disappointed in myself, for not living up to what you believe I can be."

Alice nodded sadly, placing a gentle kiss upon his nose, "I know you are, Jazz. But you've never disappointed me. I know Esme was saying that we might spend spring break in Denali. Perhaps you should go sooner?"

"What, and miss my fascinating classes?" Jasper murmured, a teasing tone in his quiet voice.

Alice grinned, "I think tonight you've demonstrated that point about knowing the material well enough to take a break. I can't explain what makes me feel this is something I must do alone, but I do know that Tanya and the others will keep you steady if you're having a hard time. And I will come for you, if things grow too difficult. I promise you."

Jasper's eyes seemed to twinkle, his smile taking a devious slant as he ran his left index finger along her collarbone, plunging down into the crevice between her breasts, "I just want to help you find what you seek," he murmured huskily.

Alice gasped, "You're cheating!"

Jasper feigned shock at her accusation as she moved swiftly, throwing him onto his back and straddling his wide hips. He tugged at the loose strings of her blouse and she slapped his hand, laughing, pinning his wrists down with a blur of motion. Her eyes stared into his as she smirked, planting several gentle kisses along his neck, working upwards to envelop his left ear lobe in her soft, full lips. A flick of her tongue ensured Jasper's submission as he shuddered happily.

"Now _you're_ playing dirty," he protested.

"You started it…" Her tongue flicked against the spot on his neck she knew so well, the one that made him putty beneath her stony, cold hands.

"Alice… Mmm…. Hey! One more question, before I accept begrudging defeat, since I know you're apt to disregard anything I say and leave anyway?"

Alice paused in her torment, her mouth hovering over his, "One question."

"Is there anything I _can_ do to help you with your past?"

Alice sat backwards, her mind quickly whirring through her action plan, searching for some small task she could occupy Jasper with while she pursued the place of her creation and possibly her birth. She snapped her fingers happily as an answer arrived quickly.

"If you do think you're struggling with staying on the straight and narrow, and if you do venture to Denali, perhaps you could speak to Laurent and attempt to learn more about James and where he's ventured over the last 100 years or so? It would help me know where he may have found me, or why."

Jasper nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely. I'd much rather deal with Laurent than let you seek him out. Irina or no, I don't trust him at all."

Alice smiled, relieved, "It's settled, then, Now, do you mind if I continue in my enjoyment of you?"

"Is it time to play, then?" Jasper asked, bemused.

"Yes, it is…"

Alice bent forward, her iron grip on Jasper's wrists tightening as she kissed him deeply, her eyes closing as her nostrils inhaled his scent, her mind growing drunk and dizzy on it. Sensing her distraction, Jasper broke free of her grip, his hands sliding to her back, working their way beneath her shirt, caressing her skin as she feverishly attacked the buttons on his shirt, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his muscular chest. Instinctively, she raised her arms briefly as the peasant blouse was quickly lifted up and over her head, discarded in a toss across the room, the top landing on a flat screen computer monitor. Satisfied with the lacy red brassiere before him, Jasper's large hands settled upon her hips, sliding up briefly to caress her body before slipping down as he deftly rolled, pinning Alice beneath him.

"You want to be in charge tonight, then?" Alice giggled, pushing the silk dress shirt down his arms.

"I let you win the argument. It's only fair."

Alice smiled widely, "I love you."

Jasper kissed her gently, "Impossibly and forever?"

Alice nodded, pulling him close, "Impossibly, undeniably, and forever."

Downstairs, Edward grimaced as his mind caught wind of a thought that no brother should hear, a thought that, were it possible for vampires to do so, would have made his cheeks burn red. _Oh how I wish they were rambunctious like Rose and Emmett!_

He glanced at the clock impatiently, then settled at the piano keys, fingers dashing across the ivory in rapid, melodic patterns. He had at least three hours to kill, and a new composition was calling his name. It was the sound he imagined his heart would make, if it could beat, as he thought of Bella alone, unprotected against Victoria's vengeful anger. The sound of a ticking bomb, preparing to explode…


	7. Chapter 5: The Duchess and the Queen

"**_Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"_**

**"_That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat._**

**"_I don't care much where – " said Alice._**

**"_Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat._**

**" – _so long as I get _somewhere_," Alice added as an explanation._**

**"_Oh you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."_**

**_Alice's Adventures In Wonderland – Lewis Carroll_**

_Outside Chicago, IL, present day_

They'd departed at four in the morning to take advantage of the relatively empty roads to push the Volvo to its limits. Very little conversation was exchanged between them, beyond a simple, "Ready?" from Edward and a nod from Alice. Inside her small suitcase lay three days' clothing, her laptop computer and the camcorder, now fully recharged. Edward now bore a similarly packed suitcase courtesy of Alice's insistence, which he'd given into almost immediately, sensing that she needed to offer the gesture in gratitude for supporting her mission.

Jasper had not betrayed the half-truth of their story to Esme and Carlisle, the theory that perhaps from Chicago Alice could latch onto Victoria's scent or possible future plans, better guiding Edward's hunt for her. Esme had seemed relieved that her children were working together once more, and Carlisle had approved of this course of action, although he seemed confused as to why Jasper was not following Alice, as was his custom. Jasper had noted that he'd just begun his time at Cornell, one month into a second semester start, and Alice had suggested for appearances that he remain behind for now.

"I may join them on weekends," Jasper had added hurriedly, looking pointedly at Alice, suggesting that perhaps he would make good on that notion, whether she wanted him to or not.

"That would be wise. You three have considered this carefully. Of course Edward, if you need any further aid, we're but a call away at all times."

"I know," Edward had replied warmly, "And I am grateful. I don't regret your choice to turn me, Carlisle; I hope you know that."

Carlisle had smiled, hugging Edward and Alice tightly, a rare gesture from a man who prided himself on physical detachment with emotional distance. Alice felt a twinge of guilt at not revealing her plan to disappear in pursuit of her past, but knew that ultimately, Esme and Carlisle would understand her urgent need to know the truth.

Nearing Toledo, Edward brought the car down to a more acceptable speed for the I-90 as early morning commuters began to join them on the bland stretch to Chicago, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. Alice flipped through the large book of CDs, looking to replace the sounds of PJ Harvey wailing about being Jane to an unknown Tarzan with something soothing for the slower drive ahead. She debated between classical selections and folk until settling upon Yoav, inserting the disc and flipping to her favourite track.

"_I didn't notice the sound of the kick of the door_

_I didn't notice the breath of the air on my face…"_

Alice tapped her knees in pace with the music, watching tree after tree pass by the window, subtly eyeing Edward, who'd begun tapping the wheel in unison. She smiled, relieved that she'd chosen something that was mutually enjoyable.

"Good call," Edward mused.

"Would you expect me to make a bad choice?"

Edward smiled, "Nah. You and I speak a similar musical language. You know what would make this suddenly endless drive longer?" Edward added, cursing the older woman driving a beaten-up Chevy in front of him, clocking ten below the limit.

"Party hats?"

"You singing. I love when you sing, Alice. Would you indulge me?"

Alice grimaced, "I'm tone deaf!"

"You're very mistaken. Ask Jasper and Esme. Please? It's a welcome distraction…"

Alice sighed, recognizing the earnest expression upon his face, "Fine, fine… But seriously, cut this woman and her boat off. She's excruciatingly slow."

Edward chuckled and made a few quick lane changes, settling behind a teen male in an SUV blowing twenty miles over, and Alice sang along quietly, opening the window to let her fingers drift through the swift air. Signs came and went, announcing the cities and exits approaching, until at last, Chicago was declared to be twenty minutes ahead in the foggy winter's day.

"So, where exactly did you lose her trail?" Alice asked casually, humming to the music.

"I did not lose her. Her trail diverged into two and I did not successfully ascertain which was correct. I lost her in the suburbs just west of –"

"Stop the car," Alice demanded, her mind whirling away from the road.

"What-?"

"STOP THE CAR. NOW, NOW!"

Edward jerked the car violently onto the shoulder of the highway, Alice barely registering the motion as a vision slammed into her consciousness so intensely, she slumped forward in her seat. Her fingers traced her leg, swirling motions, echoing the sights in her mind's eye.

_The man's arm snapped as if it were a twig, yielding so easily for such a muscular man. He played football once; he'd almost gone to college on a scholarship, before his bad knee had betrayed his dreams. Now, after years spent working as an electrician, his dreams flashed before him one final time as the fiery-haired woman, more leonine than woman in his eyes, pounced viciously. His head slammed brutally into the brick wall in the alley, the nearby traffic muting the sickening CRUNCH his skull made as it connected. Blood pooled in his eyes and ran from his nose, pouring onto his dark blue work shirt. The woman grinned sadistically, licking her lips as one impossibly strong hand pinned him against the wall as the other reached out, swiping at the blood on his head. She licked her fingers, eyes widening with the grin, glistening rubies in the early morning light._

"_I hate to eat and run, but I simply don't have time to dine leisurely. For this, you will be grateful."_

_Another slam of his head, and his brain began to peer out, triggering a strange giggle from the lithe woman. Sinking her teeth into his neck, she greedily began to devour the man whose shirt bore the name 'Rick'. Behind her, distantly, a sign indicated an exit for the I-71 S towards Louisville._

"Alice! Alice, what do you see?"

Alice shuddered, hugging herself tightly, willing the violent scene from her head. Edward stared intently, ignoring the sporadic angry honks of passing vehicles, bitter that his stopping point was just a little too close to an off ramp. His hand reached out for hers, grazing her skin gently, and she felt her muscles begin to unwind.

"Victoria."

Edward's eyes widened, "You saw her? Where is she?"

Alice shook her head, "She's going to kill him soon, that poor man… It was so vicious. I don't care for her mind, Edward. She scares me."

"Alice, did you see anything about her location? We need to keep her from Bella."

"Bella…" Alice's voice trailed away, her face growing somehow paler at the thought of Victoria mauling Bella in the way her mind had witnessed, "She'd take her time with Bella. Edward…"

"Remember it, Alice. I'll watch with you."

Alice rewound the vision mentally, playing it out again. Edward listened to her thoughts, wincing as the man's skull cracked wide open from the force of the assault. As she replayed the final moments of Rick's life, Edward reached furiously into the backseat, struggling to reach a road atlas that had fallen under his seat from the force of his sudden stop.

"How long do you think, until she acts…?"

"Moments," Alice whispered, "I felt her thirst. It was very strong… She'd travelled some way. I suspect she possibly went east, up through Canada and back south to confuse her trail."

"Louisville, then. Home of the Slugger. I should have brought Emmett's bat," Edward remarked angrily.

"A bat can't stop her," Alice replied, still holding herself as Edward plotted their new course.

"No. But it would hurt. She needs to _hurt_."

Jasper paced the corridors of the Cullen home, a cellular phone clutched tightly in his hand, absently flipping it open and shut again. One button… One speed dial press away… But he'd promised not to call her first unless he was struggling with his urges. He'd promised as they'd tangled together in their bed, limbs in complex fleshy knots, Alice's kisses raining down upon his chest, his arms securely looped around her hips. In return, she'd promised to call with every change of course or new development.

Jasper turned his attention to the large grandfather clock in the living room. _They ought to be in Chicago now. They would have been there hours ago with Alice at the wheel. What's happening?_

Open and shut. Open and shut. Jasper longed to aim the phone at the wall to resist its siren song, but worried he would miss her call.

"Any word, Jasper?"

Carlisle emerged from his upstairs office, likely drawn by the sound of his adoptive son wearing a deep groove in the wood floors below him. Dressed impeccably in a slate grey suit, his light blonde locks styled neatly, he carried his briefcase in his right hand. Jasper shook his head in reply, picking at the lint on the right sleeve of his grey wool sweater as a half-hearted distraction from flipping the cell open once more.

"I'm certain they're fine. Morning commuter traffic would have led to a need for discretion in speed."

Jasper nodded, relaxing slightly as Carlisle reached the bottom of the stairs, "I'd forgotten about that factor. Thank you, Carlisle. I was about to go mad."

Carlisle chuckled, "Alice being independent is a bit of a shock, I must say. I'm certain that no matter how she tries to insist otherwise, leaving this way is just as hard on her."

"I know. I saw it in her eyes last night. But she insists she needs to know what happened to her…" Jasper's voice trailed off as his hand flew to his mouth, recognizing in Carlisle's confused look that he'd slipped up.

"What happened to her? Ah… There's more to Alice helping Edward than they've let on, I take it?"

Jasper frowned, "I swore I wouldn't breathe a word."

"Technically, being a vampire and all, you haven't," Carlisle quipped, gesturing for Jasper to follow him into the kitchen.

Settling in at the table, Carlisle opened his briefcase, absently sorting through notes for his afternoon lectures, awaiting Jasper's explanation. Jasper stared out the window, wondering how angry Alice would be with him for letting the secret out within hours of her departure. _"I may not actually get anywhere, so why worry them?"_ she'd said, and Jasper had agreed, half-hoping that would be the case.

"She didn't see a need to mention it unless she actually had some luck in learning about her past. She did go to help Edward; that's truthful. But he, in turn, promised to help her if she could peg a starting point worth the efforts."

"Understandable. I take it I should leave the others in the dark for now, then?"

"Please do, and please don't let on that you know if she calls you."

"You have my word Jasper. Lord knows I understand how a woman scorned can be," Carlisle promised, a conspiratorial grin upon his face.

Jasper watched as his adopted father sorted through pages of notes and CD-Rs of slideshow presentations, mulling over a question that burned in his mind despite several discussions with Alice. Perhaps it was something Carlisle could help him understand.

"Why is she so consumed by this? Why isn't knowing what she knows enough for her? And why am I not welcome to join her?"

Carlisle rose to gaze out into the yard, watching the dark clouds rolling overhead, warning of the snow storm destined to touch down after dark, "We all spend our lives seeking meaning and understanding, Jasper. Those of us with a desire to know are not satisfied to merely live our lives as passengers drifting in a boat downstream. We're called to examine our choices, to understand how they have made us who we are, how they have shaped our being, and how they bring meaning to what is, truly, mundane, despite all claims of life being miraculous. And do not misunderstand that; life is a miracle, in a sense. But Alice has no context within which to frame how she came to be the woman she is now. She does not know how much of her personality was imprinted onto her after transformation, how much of it was adapted from studying humans, and how much of it carried forth from her human life. If she were to understand somehow that perhaps life lived as an immortal, with a man who loves her very much, was a reward for a harder life before, that it gave her strength to persevere and find you, and not go wild as most newborns do… It would bring a sense of peace about being a vampire that few of us possess."

Jasper nodded, "That… That makes far more sense, in that context. I think it's what Alice was getting at last night. She compared it to not knowing the hard beginning that leads to the happily ever after of a story."

"Precisely."

"But something so important to her, I would have thought… I would have taken her on that journey with me."

Carlisle shook his head, "Perhaps, Jasper. But you walked a path alone, before you met Alice. You set out alone, seeking hope, seeking your own sense of meaning. And you found it, in her. She's merely doing it in reverse: she's found her hope, but feels compelled to make that spiritual journey alone. I'm certain the moment Edward is preoccupied, she'll be leaving him in her dust. Even he won't be welcome on this journey."

Jasper sighed, his long legs stretching out under the table, his hand returning to the cell phone in his pocket. It rang suddenly, a high-pitched insistent ring, and he hurriedly withdrew it and answered.

"Alice?"

"Jazz! I miss you."

"I miss you as well. How is the trip going?"

"We're on our way to Louisville. I saw her there early this morning. With any luck we'll get a strong whiff of her and hunt her down tonight. I'll let you know when we get there."

Jasper smiled, "Alright. I'll be waiting patiently."

Alice's laughter through the phone danced through him, "I'm fairly certain you've been anything but patient. But wait, you will. Classes, remember? Greek Mythology at two, Jasper. Don't miss it."

Jasper groaned, "I know a thousand times more than the professor of that one."

"So go dazzle him. Make him feel stupid for sport, like I would."

Jasper chuckled, "In your honour then, I shall. Be safe, Alice."

"Always. I love you."

"Love you too."

Carlisle smiled as Jasper hung up, wordlessly heading out to his car. Jasper slid the phone back into his pocket and headed upstairs to find his textbooks. Might as well examine the week's reading in preparation for the professor's shaming.

"He was waiting by the phone, wasn't he?" Edward asked.

"Oh, most definitely. You'd think I'd never left him alone before."

"You haven't. Not like this, anyway."

"Hmm. Fair enough. He worries far too much. How far to Louisville?"

Edward glanced at the dashboard, "We've gone 145 miles so far. Halfway there. 85 minutes?"

"Watch your speed. The last thing we need is a ticket slowing us down," Alice grumbled.

"You and your sensibility," Edward bristled, easing his foot slightly from the gas, "95 minutes, then. Happy?"

"No. I'm as impatient as you are. If you weren't so hopeless and if Victoria weren't so vicious, I'd suggest you make a run for it instead."

"Maybe I should. I'm not afraid of her."

Alice frowned, "You should be, Edward. If anything happens to you…"

"Let it."

"Damn it, Edward, enough! You don't have the market cornered on suffering, nor do you need to suffer. One more comment like that and I'm sending Carlisle to Forks to collect Bella. And don't think he won't do it," she added, daggers in her eyes.

They drove in silence, the radio off, Alice's thoughts wandering ahead to Louisville, to what they might find there. Why was Victoria straying so far off course, if her plan was to destroy Bella as they'd destroyed James? Something felt wrong about the whole situation. She trusted her vision, its clarity so sharp that it had been a definite course of action, no misleading thought process meant to thwart them in their pursuit. Why Kentucky? Why head south?

Reaching for the road atlas tucked between them, Alice traced their route with her finger, then noticed something startling. Flipping to the full map of the United States, she tapped the page furiously, her mouth barely able to form the words swirling in her head.

"What is it now?" Edward snapped, still irritated from her threat to turn Bella.

"The river! The water! But why?"

Edward's eyes widened, "Wait… Are we…?"

"We're following, more or less, the path I must have taken to Cincinnati in reverse. It's almost as if she's purposely going there…"

Edward frowned, "I sense a trap. A diversion, perhaps. James could have told her something. Perhaps you were from Kentucky?"

"Perhaps… I don't know how far I travelled, precisely. You think she's targeting Bella but leading us away from her?"

Edward shrugged, "If she is, she'll fail. You'll mind Bella, won't you Alice?"

"I thought you said you didn't want me to –"

"Don't tell me anything unless Victoria is in the picture. Understood?"

Alice nodded, "Of course."

Alice turned to gaze out the window, willing the car to move faster. Whatever reasons Victoria had for selecting Louisville as a destination, it would seem that Alice and Edward would both possibly get what they wanted so desperately: closure. Or perhaps it was all smoke and mirrors, a tease.

"Curiouser and curiouser…" Alice whispered to the passing cars, her eyes counting the miles on the dashboard.


	8. Chapter 6: The Vanished Woman

_Cincinnati, OH, present day_

Alice suddenly found it difficult to remain still in her seat. Perhaps she should have taken the wheel when Edward offered an hour ago while filling the tank. Driving would give her control. Driving would give her a task to focus upon. Instead, all she had was worry and confusion about Victoria's strategy.

The fact she'd managed to elude them for so very long indicated a vampire skilled at evasion. It was no doubt her talents that drew James to her; as an exceptional tracker, someone skilled at evasion could challenge him, keeping his skills razor-sharp. Similarly, her evasion likely taught him a thing or two in avoiding capture, leading to the clever misdirection that had nearly cost Bella her life in Phoenix. Without Alice's vision shifting to see Bella dying in the studio... Without Bella having noted the sketch resembled the one from her childhood, they may have been far too late to protect her.

What was that TV show slogan? "Outwit, outlast, outplay"? James had nearly outplayed them with Victoria's assistance. Alice knew that even alone, Victoria would be a formidable opponent.

"Anything new?" Edward asked, his foot edging the speedometer 5 miles higher.

"Nothing yet... But I feel her somehow. I think she is still headed south."

"But Bella is west of here..."

Alice sighed, "I know, She went to a great deal of effort to confuse her trail in Chicago. I'm wagering she's going to head south and loop northwest somehow.

Edward, perhaps we simply ought to head for Forks -"

"No."

"If she's headed there anyway -"

"You need to find your past, Alice. And... I can't go there right now. Not unless it's dire and I must."

Alice frowned, "But why?"

Edward stared straight ahead, ignoring the question, his steely focus on dodging through traffic as they flew down the interstate, minutes away from the Kentucky border. His hands gripped the wheel tightly, as if it were a precious object worth risking his life for. His body quivered in a silent, tearless sob. Alice reached out, laying her small hand atop his, inching closer to him.

"Edward? You can tell me."

His whisper was barely audible, even to Alice's keen ears: "If I go back, I will never be able to leave again."

"Then don't leave her," she whispered back.

"I have to. She needs me to."

"She needs _you_."

His voice broke, and Alice's heart with it from the weight of his pain, "No, she doesn't."

Alice shook her head sadly, turning to the road ahead, where tractor trailers and cars blended together in a crush of early evening traffic. She wished for the strength of Carlisle, wished she could just go to her sometime sister, give her the choice to join them, be able to give her eternity at her command. It had been 55 years since she'd tasted human blood, but Bella was tempting even to her senses in times of hunger, and Alice was not firm in her belief that she could not harm the fragile, sweet girl with the overly emotive face and wide, trusting doe eyes. But perhaps she could stand watch, somehow, instead. She felt guilty for pursuing this quest to find her past while the present was so fraught with potential heartache and peril.

"Don't think that. You need to know everything you can."

Alice frowned, "Mind your own brainwaves."

"If I genuinely feel setting up a post near Forks is needed, I'll ask Emmett or Jasper to help. Right now, I'm just as concerned as you are about why Victoria is doubling around in loops this way."

"It feels completely off, doesn't it?" Alice suggested.

"It feels sneaky and rotten. But perhaps, in her own way, she'll help you out, even if her motives for leading you to your birthplace are wicked and malicious."

"Lemonade from sour grapes, then?" Alice mused.

Edward smiled, "If you wish to call it that, yes."

Alice pointed out an exit, "Ever the strangely optimistic one, you are. Pull off there; something seems vaguely familiar..."

Edward guided the Volvo into the right lane smoothly, taking a cut off to a small side street, winding down towards the water. Alice's eyes drank in the sights, the small dilapidated houses, paint peeling from the shingles. The pick-up trucks and small sedans lined the streets, a time warp postcard from the early 90's. Small children played in one yard on a tire swing, relentless spinning one boy while he screamed for them to stop in a voice that meant 'keep going', None of it stood out at first.

"Wait… Alice, look!"

Alice turned her attention to the last building on the left, a low rise apartment building of ruddy bricks. The alley closest to them was marked off with ominous yellow tape. Alice's mind flashed to her vision, and she nodded, and Edward pulled over into the small plaza across the street.

"Should we both go see?"

Alice shook her head, "It will look odd. Small town area, Edward. Go into the store and ask for directions to the nearest hotel. I'll slip over there. Meet me after."

"It's rather disturbing how you think of these things," Edward mused.

"I told you that CSI was quality programming."

Edward chuckled, "And here I thought it was all about that Gary character…"

Alice stepped out of the car, feigning stretching her legs, rubbing her lower back in the universal gesture of one who's spent far too much time in a car for one day. Faking a yawn, she approached the building from the opposite alley, eyes locked on a gorgeous oak tree behind it. She pulled her cell phone out to take a picture of it, playing the role of lost tourist. If she were confronted by anyone, she'd reply in sign language.

A strange pull tugged at her navy blue wool coat, and she stumbled around closer to the taped-off alley. The smell of blood was potent, and the thirst burned, not urgently but a nagging sensation. This was where Rick had met his end this morning at Victoria's hands. Peering around the corner, the blood-soaked walls confirmed her suspicions, and sent waves of repulsion through her body.

The arcs and spurts of blood told of many severed arteries, some perhaps for fun. It was almost as if Victoria were creating an art piece from her victim, such was the nature of the splatter. Alice found herself trapped between the urge to consume, to drink, and the urge to run away in horror. Even in times of feeding upon humans, Alice had always moved swiftly, killed efficiently and as painlessly as she could. This was killing for the sheer joy of it. And this is what Victoria would do to Bella, if given a moment's chance.

"Repulsive, isn't it? What killers are capable of?"

Alice nodded, her eyes turning to Edward, who carried a bag of chips and a bottle of Coke, "And to think, that humans sometimes do this to their kind… This was definitely her."

"No question. I smell her."

Alice's gaze wandered again to the back courtyard, where a small pathway cut towards the river's edge. She inhaled deeply, absorbing the scents in the air, filtering through the rich metallic salty blood until she latched onto the musky vanilla-esque scent of Victoria. It drifted down the pathway, almost a dare for Alice to pursue. On a sort of autopilot, Alice began to drift towards it. Edward caught hold of her left arm, freezing her in place.

"No. We'll be noticed. We need to park the Volvo somewhere. The store clerk says there's a small hotel one exit further. I'll drive you around the corner, drop you to track, check in and run back to you. The sun will be down by then."

Alice obeyed, despite the persistent tug of the pathway. It beckoned loudly, tethering to her mind and demanding its strict attention. Edward loaded the snacks into the backseat, absently pointed to a random page in the atlas for show and departed, depositing Alice on the corner they'd turned off from. He shook his head, worrying Alice.

"What?"

"I don't like this. It's too…"

"Deliberate?"

"Be careful, Alice," Edward said quietly, "Jasper will kill me if anything happens to you."

"I'll track her. If her scent grows strong, I'll bolt back to the store. Mind my thoughts as best you can."

"I will. Half an hour at most, Alice."

The Volvo careened off towards the interstate, and Alice suddenly felt incredibly alone. Maybe Jasper had been right; maybe she should have brought him with her, just in case. She quickly dismissed the thought, concerned Edward would return immediately for her, and darted quickly through the trees, reaching the pathway in seconds under their cover. The sun barely shone now, the early sunset of winter carrying it swiftly to its bed. Forcing herself to keep to a normal pace while exposed at the head of the trail, Alice followed the scent of Victoria, her senses attuned also to any humans who might be lingering on the trail as well.

A lone jogger passed her a half mile down the trail, his head bobbing slightly as a hello as he kept a steady pace towards the street above. The water's scent drifted into her inhalations, Victoria's scent growing stronger near it. _She's clever; she's probably dodging into and out of the water to break her trail and buy time_. Alice cautiously headed for the shore, the rustling of trees in the breeze overhead shaking branches in a sinister fashion. If Alice weren't by definition a monster herself, she'd be concerned she'd suddenly dropped into a monster movie.

The scent led her towards a small wooden shack two miles in the distance, and she sped towards it, no longer concerned with humans crossing her path, no longer sure she cared if she were caught. The shaky structure, leaning slightly as stronger gusts of wind shook it, haunted her somehow. Had it been Victoria's temporary refuge? Examining the outside of it, she found her scent dwindled near it; she hadn't lingered here. And yet, there was something here…

A cat, etched into the southern wall, caught her eye.

Its grin was wide, impossibly so and out of proportion. It had been carved deeply, over and over, as if the artist were obsessed with this specific feature. The whiskers, the paws, the body, all were sketched lazily and faintly. But the _mouth_… It overwhelmed the drawing. It seemed incredibly familiar.

Alice stepped into the shack and was immediately seized by a flood of memories: of cowering, in a ball in the corner, wondering why she couldn't sleep; of devouring a small fox, draining its carcass on the wooden floor while begging God to forgive her; of confusion and despair…

"I was here…." She whispered, stunned.

She stood, staring into the corner, for what felt like impossible hours. Edward's arrival was what broke her stare and brought her back to awareness. He'd left his black trench coat behind, presumably at the hotel he'd been told of. His fists were clenching and unclenching in anger.

"She's playing games with you, Alice… Who the hell does she think she is?"

"Edward…" Alice murmured, slipping outside to gaze at the cat drawing once more.

"She's using your past as a means of deceiving us; she's threatening my Bella and now she's hurting you. I will NOT abide this."

Alice traced the cat sketch absently, "But I was here…"

"She drew you in purposefully. It's cruel to tease you this way. She could be leading you on a hopeless chase to nothing!"

Edward inhaled deeply, then growled as he caught Victoria's trail to the south. He beckoned to Alice, his eyes flashing angrily, but Alice remained stoic, her hand absently reaching for her phone to take a photo of the drawing. _Did I draw this?_

"Alice!"

"Edward, she didn't lead me here on purpose."

Edward frowned, tugging Alice to face him, "How did she not? You were here?"

"Yes," she responded quietly.

"Victoria wanted you to come here. James must have told her something before he died, something that set her in this direction, knowing it would distract us. And look at you – you're utterly distracted! She could be heading around to Forks as we speak!"

"She didn't go inside the shack."

Edward stared at her, confused and infuriated, "SO?"

Alice spoke softly, and slowly, "If she came here intentionally, if James somehow knew I was here, then why wouldn't she make a direct path for this shack and leave her scent all over it, being as it is so significant to me? But she didn't… She moved past it, and continued south. I'm starting to think this is more a strange coincidence than anything else…"

"Chance? You're suddenly chalking this up to mere chance?" Edward sneered.

"Or maybe… Maybe she knows only where James met me. Maybe the following of the river is merely her choosing a convenient path, just as I chose it heading north so many years ago…Yes… She's diverting us, but doing it blindly."

Alice took Edward's hand, running in the direction of Victoria's trail, the two of them covering miles in minutes, stopping briefly here and there to affirm the scent's strength. Victoria had stuck fairly close to the river, save when she wandered from it to kill a deer as they crossed out of Kentucky. From there, they grew frustrated: the trail seemed to split again, as in Chicago, with one end flowing further south and the other seeming to head into the river, and possibly further points west.

"We need to separate," Alice stated calmly.

"It's not safe, Alice," Edward protested.

"I know it isn't. That's why I'm calling Jasper to join you in heading west."

"Yes, calling Jasper is – WAIT. Jasper should accompany you!"

"Edward, her ultimate goal is Forks. That's west of here. Chances are, the southbound trail is a diversion that doubles back towards here again, and then continues west. We shouldn't waste time. Jasper will back you up. Perhaps he can keep guard over Bella, if that's easier for you…"

Edward frowned, "Or he can devour her."

Alice's eyes widened in anger, "TAKE IT BACK. That's not fair!"

"I'm being realistic. He'll have to stay with me."

"Fine, call Rosalie. I'm sure she'll be a TREMENDOUS help. Jasper and I will just take off then. Happy?"

Alice, in frustration, launched herself into a nearby tree, snapping several branches in her rage. The large limbs fell to the ground with a loud thump heard for miles. Edward sighed, leaping up to an adjacent oak.

"I don't want that, Alice. I don't want to lose anyone else. I've read his thoughts, Alice. I can't blame him for finding her particularly difficult to resist when he's struggling already. I love you both. I'm just frustrated with this entire situation… Would you like to beat on me a while?"

Alice shook her head, "Even when you fight back, you're too easy. No satisfaction in that. But I suggest you watch your temper and your words around him, because if he calls me upset or takes off clear to Mexico because of you, I will tear you to pieces and give you the dramatic lover's farewell you contemplate when you think no one notices. Understood?"

Edward nodded and Alice placed a call to Jasper, who answered so quickly the phone scarcely rang. A few sentences of explanation and Alice could hear Jasper shouting out information to Esme and assuring her he'd be at the hotel in hours. Closing her phone, she turned to Edward and leaped down from the tree.

"Take good care of him, will you? He won't be happy."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not waiting for him to arrive, Edward. He'll never agree to go west with you if he sees me. I'm continuing south. I'll call you with anything I find."

"Alice, no…"

"Edward, Victoria is fast revealing herself to be an incredibly astute vampire when it comes to evasion. She's the vanishing woman. She might as well be a magician, such is her talent for misdirection; perhaps she was one in her human life. But either way, my past lies south and ultimately, you promised to help me if I helped you. I've found her trail, give you a solid lead. Now, it's your turn. Let me go."

Edward sighed, hugging Alice tightly, "Be safe. I can't promise that anything short of Carlisle and Emmett arriving to help me will hold him back when he finds out. But I'll let you go. Check in every two hours."

"I will. Tell him I love him very much."

"Good luck, Alice."

"Thank you, Edward. And good luck."

Shaking herself, she turned away from her brother, staring at the winding river's edge, a flurry of faint newborn memories accosting her now, so close to where it began. This was the beginning of her life as Alice, a vampire with a heart and remorse, and a gift for seeing things coming that had saved her from self-destruction. But where did the woman beloved by a vampire in the darkest recesses of an asylum end?

Inhaling deeply, a sense of hope renewed, Alice ran, looking for her life.


	9. Chapter 7: The White Rabbit

_Jackson, MS, Dec 1918_

The ward nurse sped quickly down the corridor, paying little mind to the sporadic wandering patients and orderlies giving chase with cups of pills, waving at a doctor with a clipboard examining a wailing young man upon a gurney in the hall. The older gentleman followed her quietly, taking the setting in, inhaling slow, shallow breaths, as if the despair and hysterics were contagious. It was the usual reaction of new orderlies visiting the asylum for the first time: a blend of wonder and shock at the state's sick and desperate.

"Now, Mr. Leroux, any questions so far?" Nurse LeCroix asked over her shoulder.

"No, Madame. Everything certainly seems to have a natural order. Tell me: how long have these patients been locked away?"

Nurse LeCroix clucked her tongue sadly, "Aye, some of them have been here for a decade. Some have only recently arrived. The lifers are usually easy enough to handle, once they realize you new folk know the rules well enough that they can't pull a fast one on you. Sad little souls, they are. This next ward, downstairs, it's the saddest of them all. They're the solitaries, the ones that simply cannot function in a normal group environment. Poor dears, they are. Mind your step, Mr. Leroux."

Leroux followed down a locked set of narrow stairs into the basement of the Mississippi State Insane Hospital, ducking his head slightly to manage the low ceiling. Nurse LeCroix unlocked two bolts at the bottom and nodded to an orderly passing upwards, and led Leroux down a dank hallway, a seemingly endless grey expanse save for 6 bright steel doors with small, high barred windows cut into them. From further down, Leroux could hear a sad wailing, a wordless mourning cry. He shook his head, clearing it to focus on the nurse's instructions.

"Never you mind that sound; that's ol' Delia. Lost three children and her husband, if memory serves me. She's no trouble beyond all the noise. The good doctor's seizure reigmen seems to calm her down some. And in here," she said, unlocking the second cell on their right, "Is Miss Brandon. Poor little Mary; her family gave up on her long ago."

"Gave up?"

"They done put up a tombstone for her in the family plot. It's a good thing she's such a delusional child. Can you imagine how that would feel?"

Leroux entered the room a step behind the nurse, his eyes widening at the sight of the young girl and her conditions. The room was windowless and barren, save a pot for her washroom needs and a small straw mattress on the floor. Mary Brandon lay upon it, curled in a ball, rocking herself gently back and forth, seemingly oblivious to the visitors. Nurse LeCroix approached her slowly, cooing soothingly, and checked her pulse, nodding and entering it upon her chart. Mary did not look up.

Leroux struggled in that small space to breathe calmly. The girl's natural scent beckoned him like no other ever had. And yet, staring at her glazed eyes, he somehow knew he was here for her sake, that fate had led him to this exact point and she was the reason why. Her tiny frame, clad in a simple white cotton gown, only added to her seeming fragility. Her hair was very short, shorn recently to an inch in length, the ends ragged and spiked. He smiled warmly, said hello quietly. She blinked once, almost deliberately, but did not move.

"Miss Brandon very rarely speaks. It's probably for the best; she scares most of the staff when she does."

"How so?" Leroux couldn't imagine such a small girl capable of striking fear in anyone.

"She tends to tell people things they don't wish to hear. Things she shouldn't be able to tell them. It's why her parents sent her away. Methodist family and all, they thought the poor child taken by the Devil himself. But she's a little love, really. She doesn't mean harm."

"And do you believe what she says is from the Devil?"

Nurse LeCroix frowned, "I don't know. My job isn't to judge her soul. My job's to keep her fed and alive and make sure the doctors give her treatments. We have murderous souls in these walls, Mr. Leroux, and they all get the same treatment from me unless they give me a hard time. You know what I mean?"Nurse LeCroix opened the door to the cell, holding it for Leroux.

As the door slammed shut, his ears heard the faintest whisper emanating from a tiny mouth, the voice cracking slightly."Mrs. McGregor is making a pie.. Run, Peter Rabbit..."

Nurse LeCroix peered in through the barred window, pressing herself onto her toes to reach. Leroux easily eyed her through the bars. Inside the cell, Mary Brandon turned slowly towards them, smiled at Leroux, and winked.

"Oh my. I think she's taken a shining to you, Mr. Leroux. She only tells that one to her favourites."

Leroux smiled back, "You think so?"

"Oh I know it. She loves that song. Always on about rabbits of some sort. I think it was a story from her days as a girl, that one."

"Does she know any others?"

Nurse LeCroix shook her head, "None I've heard her mention. Just Peter Rabbit. She once asked for a pet rabbit, when she first came to stay with us. Of course we couldn't oblige her. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll show you where the doctors perform the seizure therapy. Miss Brandon is treated once a week, as are all of the patients on this level."

Leroux obeyed, his mind still latched onto the image of the young girl winking. She'd seemed somehow aware of his good will towards her, despite her delusions. And what of this penchant of hers to tell others things that they didn't want to hear? Was she a seer of some kind? Did she have a gift, as he did? Did she understand her gift and what it meant for her?

Nurse LeCroix seemed fond of him, and immediately hired him on for weekend nights to assist with the patients and their general care. The night shift, she'd explained, was mostly to keep things in order, keep an eye out for escape attempts and to generally help soothe troubled minds to sleep. Injections were to be performed when deemed necessary by the head nurse of the shift, swiftly delivered to the left buttock. The morning shift was to arrive and handle breakfast and rousing the patients from their beds for treatments and therapy. Leroux nodded, signing all necessary paperwork and waivers, and was handed two sets of uniform, both of which were to be kept neatly pressed and laundered at all times.

Nurse LeCroix struck him as a stickler on appearances, and he made careful note to himself to maintain these garments.Exiting the hospital grounds, his coat drawn tightly around him, Leroux found his attention drawn again to the young ward in the basement. Who was she? Why had her parents forsaken her so completely as to declare her dead? And how, he further wondered, had he become capable of seeing a child through compassionate eyes, despite how badly his throat burned at the scent of her? Was it all as simple as Carlisle had claimed it could be? Could one disregard one's nature and overcome it through compassion and sheer will?

Years ago, he'd dismissed the notion as rubbish, as counterintuitive and far too difficult to manage. But here, in seeking an easy place to procure victims, he'd found himself longing to safeguard one of his supposed prey. How could this be so? And why did he find himself impatient for tomorrow night, his first on duty at the Mississippi State Insane Hospital?

The 24 hours passed dreadfully slow. Leroux sated himself on a homeless man who lay, near death, in an alleyway in Jackson. He retreated to his small log cabin in the forest, an abandoned property he'd taken possession of passively, with very little resistance met. The owner, he was told, had left for Europe two years' prior and had not yet returned. Leroux spent his time reading his books, a collection of at least a hundred tomes lining the shelves of the otherwise sparsely furnished home. He was certain this was more of a hideaway or retreat for the owner than an actual abode, but it suited Leroux fine.

One text caught his eye that night as he replaced a collection of Shakespearean tragedies on the shelf and sought something new:

_Alice's Adventures In Wonderland._

Leroux smiled, carefully blowing the dust from the cover and settling into a small chair in the eastern corner. A story of a journey through dreams, spurred on by a talking white rabbit... This would be perfect, he surmised, for bringing a little joy to Mary Brandon. Reading the story throughout the night, he caught himself laughing harder than he could remember, harder than he'd laughed since the change. Perhaps it was perfect for him, as well.

Standing in Mary's room at the start of his first shift, the book clutched in hand, Leroux smiled kindly at the young girl, who sat fiddling with the bread crusts on her dinner tray. She did not pay him any attention at first, and somehow, Leroux sensed this was a game with her. Settling down into a crouch across the room, he spoke quietly to his charge.

"Miss Brandon, do you remember me?"

Her eyes shut tightly, trembling for a moment, then opened, "You've brought the rabbit. I knew you would."

Leroux felt his eyes widen in surprise, "What rabbit?"

"A white one. A new pet for me. It was very kind of you. I've not met that one."

Leroux gazed at the book, then turned his attention back to Mary, "Do you know my name?"

Mary shoved the tray aside, her eyes turning upwards, their bright blue shocking, even in the dim lighting, "They call you Leroux, but you are not, really. It's not what you use. You won't hurt me. Not yet."

Leroux nearly stumbled backwards, raising to his feet. _How...? What does she...?_ It suddenly became clear just how powerful a gift Mary Brandon possessed, and why the staff feared her. She could see through anyone, if she wanted to.

"Not yet?" he whispered.

"Oh no. And when you do, you won't mean it. It's okay. I forgive you now, if that's the choice you make. But could I have the rabbit first?"

Leroux nodded, sitting down upon the cold stone floor, "If you wish. I thought we might read, to help you sleep. Would you like that?"

Mary clapped her hands, wrapping a thin sheet about her, "Oh yes. It's been so long since anyone told me a story. What is this one about?"

Leroux thought for a moment, then smiled, "It's about a girl like you. She saw things no one believed. She experienced whole worlds no one else had seen. And she liked rabbits very much. Her name was Alice."

Mary gasped, "That's MY name."

Leroux looked confused, "But, the nurse told me -"

"It's one of my names. The silent one. The middle. It was my grandmother's name before me."

Leroux nodded, "Then I shall call you my Alice. Would you like that?"

Mary nodded her head vigorously, twirling the ends of her gown about her fingers, "Very much, so. We can pretend I'm this Alice in the book? At least, while we read?"

"As you wish, Miss Alice. And you may call me Alistair."

"I like that," Mary replied, considering the notion as carefully as one might make a serious decision, "Please tell me my story, Alistair."

Alistair turned the page and began, reading the first chapter aloud quietly. His acute hearing sensed a hush falling over the floor, even the troubled cell of Delia Gates, as if the entire floor were listening, breath bated, waiting to hear the next line.

The ward nurse would later tell Nurse LeCroix that the new orderly had 'a magic touch' with the disturbed floor, and recommended he devote the majority of his time to their care. Nurse LeCroix had smiled knowingly at this suggestion; she'd sensed that knack in their somewhat moody but diligent new worker, and made it clear to the doctors that he was to administer to the floor at all times when he was on shift. It was such a dramatic change that Dr. Harrington suspended seizure treatments with Mary Alice Brandon for two weeks, an experiment to determine whether she could be managed without their calming effects.

It was only when she'd thrown a tremendous tantrum at another orderly, demanding 'Leroux come care for her' on a weekday night instead, that Harrington was forced to treat her with three days of shock therapy in a single week, the camphor set to work, her mind softening until she scarcely fed herself for days. It was in this state that Leroux found her on his third weekend, and his chest tightened in anger.

"Why was this thing done to her?" Leroux asked the doctor.

"She threatened an orderly with violence. It seems she only wishes to be cared for by you, Mr. Leroux. That is unrealistic."

"But she's too tiny to harm a fly. She's never given me trouble."

"All the same, you've only seen her safely under a regimen of weekly shock treatment. I was hoping we could cease that interference with her brain but it wasn't to be. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Alistair watched the doctor scamper, a crab-like scurry down the hallway. How dare he treat his Alice like a bad animal, a thing to experiment on? He wanted to tear the limbs from the doctor, lap at his blood, strip his flesh from the bones! His fist clenched tightly and hs struggled to hold himself back. _If you give in, there will be no one to mind her_. The sobering thought calmed him as he returned to the basement, watching his Alice, eyes rolled back into her head, limbs limply splayed on her mattress. There would be no reading today.

"Dream of the white rabbit, Alice. Fall safely down the rabbit hole. You will be safe in my watch."

His feet click-slapped down the hall, opening the last cell on the right and attending to the older man within, a catatonic soul who seldom moved, let alone spoke. The silence soothed him. Someday, he would find the strength to care for Alice, to save her from these walls and help her find a happy life outside them.

His tolerance for being near humans was growing; perhaps in a few years he would no longer fear devouring her outside of the watch of the hospital walls. But until then, he would be her keeper here.

A murmur down the hall caught his ears, and he startled slightly:"Please sir... Wait..."

Alistair Leroux smiled, and nodded. _I will wait until we're ready, Alice. We will wait._


	10. Chapter 8: The Beginning

_The border of Tennessee and Mississippi, present day_

Alice ran briskly, but cautiously, mindful of her surroundings, searching for any landmark that seemed familiar. The last one she'd encountered had been in southern Kentucky, a collection of rocks alongside the Mississippi river that reminded her vaguely of a place where she'd experienced a fright in the sun, most likely her first experience of the luminescence of vampire flesh in broad daylight, the reason for the many legends and folklore tales of vampires fearing the largest star. This landmark had reassured her that she was on the right path, and Victoria's scent had lingered there as well. Several miles back, the trail had led to the carcass of what appeared to be a middle-aged man, decomposing rapidly, the arms nearly torn off in haste of attack. Alice had paused to wish comfort for the man's loved ones and continued, careful not to touch the body.

But here, crossing into the river's namesake state, Alice was distraught. Victoria's trail had gone cold. Alice suspected this was where she'd doubled back towards where she'd left Edward, but she hesitated to call him with this bad news, lest Victoria be near and somehow evading her senses. The man's body had been nude; perhaps Victoria had donned his bloody clothes to confuse her pursuers. Weighing out the odds, Alice opted to proceed somewhat slowly, jogging at a near-human rate, her eyes and ears scanning the area, her mind seeking desperately for Victoria's plans.

Overhead, a waxing moon trickled light from the deep blue sky, beams of it cutting through the trees and adding a shimmery hue to the water beside her. The animals, sensing her unnatural presence, were wary but relaxed, as if they knew she wasn't seeking them out this night. Very few homes were situated near the water in this area, and for that, Alice was grateful. She counted on silence and anonymity to aid her quest. The trees greeted her in patches, clusters standing tall, giving way to relatively plain clearings and fields. For a moment, she was reminded of the meadow near Forks, and Bella's face came into her mind. She'd sought Bella out several times during the night, finding no visions save the one that remained strong: Bella as a newborn, smiling warmly at Alice and Edward. That had never wavered, not at any point in the last 5 months. Why Edward refused to listen to her, Alice could not say. She'd spent hours discussing her frustrations with both Esme and Jasper, and the consensus was that Edward was in denial that Bella could love him, truly love him, in spite of the numerous obstacles, that he feared she'd grow tired with the constant threats to her safety and Edward's refusal to change her. But to Alice, it seemed to run deeper; it was as if Edward wanted to protect Bella, yet at the same time, he wanted to suffer. He wished to feel pain on the scale he felt Bella had felt through the last year.

"It's all bloody unnecessary," Alice grumbled through her teeth, "They're perfect for each other."

Slipping deeper into Northern Mississippi, Alice found herself entering another clearing, this one smaller, with dips and hills throughout, giving the ground an unsteady feel. The trail was still dead; Victoria had turned around or gone through the river. Alice sighed, realizing she'd have to give Edward and Jasper fair warning to expect Victoria on their end. Flipping open her cellphone, she began to dial, but halted, distracted by a large patch of moldy wet leaves, sunken in a mini-valley in the far corner of the clearing. Something about it haunted her, and her mind began to race.

_I know this place... But how_...?

Her body shuddering slightly with excitement and fear, Alice approached the pile of leaves, her right palm outstretched as if to take hold of something she couldn't yet see, but knew was there waiting...

Back in Kentucky, Edward was negotiating for a peaceful resolution to Jasper's fury.

"You let her run off alone? Victoria could be out there! What if she traps her, or worse?!" Jasper stormed around the small hotel room, his eyes wild and frantic as he inhaled Alice's scent subconsciously from her bag, which sat on one of the two double beds.

"I didn't allow her to do anything. Jasper, you know her. Her mind was set. Plus, she and I agree that the trail south was a decoy like the first. She knew you'd be angry and said to tell you she loved you. Her thoughts were very apologetic towards you as she took off. But standing around here arguing with me won't make Alice safer, no matter what direction Victoria has truly chosen."

Jasper nodded, bitterly accepting that Edward was right in this instance. Were he in Edward's shoes, he would have pursued Alice anyway, but that, he knew, was the thought of a man whose reason for existing was a pixie of a woman and a smile that could melt the hardest hearts. Reaching for his cell phone, he gestured for the door. Edward led the way to the Volvo, trench coat in hand as habit; it would be left in the car, useless for their means of search. The phone rang once... twice...

"Jazz. don't be angry. He only did what I told him."

"You're being far too cavalier with the most precious thing in my world, Alice."

"My hips?" Alice flirted, an attempt to soften the hard tone of his voice.

"You, period. I don't like this. We could call Carlisle, run in teams of two. Rosalie and Emmett are due back in days. Victoria is not one to be trusted, Alice."

"But she does have a strategy, Jazz, and I've figured out her game. And, as it turns out, I was right. Her trail ran dead before I hit Mississippi. The trail west is likely the way she's actually gone. I was about to call you to update you both. You need to hurry; I can't imagine her lead is too long yet."

Jasper sighed, "Join us, then. Three is better than two."

Alice was silent a moment, then replied quietly, "My trail isn't dead."

Jasper's eyes widened, and Edward turned to look at him, hearing his thoughts, "What trail?"

"I recognize places here. I've found a few. I think I'm close to where I awoke... I have to keep looking."

"Alice, are you sure?"

"I am. Please, for me... Go take care of Bella. I've seen what Victoria is capable of and it frightens me to think of her near Bella. I'll call you in a while. I love you."

"I love you. Alice, please..."

The phone went dead, and Jasper broke the phone slamming it shut. He cursed, throwing it in the backseat. Edward drummed the wheel impatiently, turning off into the rest area where he'd parked earlier in the evening to meet Alice along the water's edge. Cutting the engine, he reached out to place a hand on Jasper's shoulder.

"Women are stubborn as hell, Jasper. There's no arguing with them in this state."

"No," Jasper whispered quietly, "But we can still defy them. Take me to where the trails diverged."

Edward heard Jasper's thoughts and sighed inwardly. There would be a hell of a struggle in approximately five minutes, when Jasper was planning to track Alice against her will. _Alice, for your sake, I hope he changes his mind, _he muttered inwardly, launching into an impossibly fast blur towards the waterfront, tracking Alice's scent to be certain of the path. Rocketing along beside him was Jasper, a fierce look of determination hardening his normally soft features. Dodging trees and tangling underbrush, they easily came to where Alice had separated from Edward four hours ago. Planting himself in Jasper's path, Edward shook his head.

"Don't disobey her. We need to find Victoria."

Jasper growled, "She shouldn't be alone out there."

"Jasper, I heard her thoughts. She'll be incredibly hurt if you follow her against her will. She'll think you don't trust her to handle herself, think that you consider her weak. Is she weak?"

"No," Jasper begrudgingly admitted.

"She took care of herself for almost 30 years, without a mentor to help her, living a nearly vegetarian lifestyle, clinging to a vision of you and a vision of Carlisle to keep her steady. If she truly believed she were in danger, she would call us," Edward reasoned, sensing Jasper's resolve weakening.

_But she's all I have. I can't lose her._ Jasper's brow furrowed, as he paced between Edward and the shore, debating.

Edward nodded knowingly, his own chest hurting from the ache of Bella's absence, a steady pain that grew worse each day, though he tried to ignore it. Whatever misery he felt, it was nothing, he was certain, compared to the horrors he'd brought into Bella's life - horrors Victoria longed to add to. He unwittingly shuddered, and Jasper kneeled by the water, contemplating something in the water. His eyes widened, and he waved Edward closer, shattering his melancholy reverie.

"She swam across. Her footprints are still visible further out, where it runs a bit deeper. Do you see?"

Edward nodded, "Alice was right. She's running circles to distract us, buy herself time."

"Probably cutting across and headed straight west through Missouri. May have a hell of a head start. Run it or fly it, Edward?"

Edward pulled out his cell phone, hitting the speed dial for Carlisle, "Let's check our options. Maybe we can catch the red eye from Louisville to Seattle or Vancouver, come at her from the other direction."

"And Alice?" Jasper asked, pacing again between the tree she'd perched upon and the water.

"Let her go. I'll have Esme come, perhaps, to be nearby in case."

Somewhat satisfied with this notion, Jasper prowled the tree line, scavenging for signs of small wildlife to partake of in preparation for time confined with humans in a small space. Edward relayed their suspicions to Carlisle, who indicated that flights were limited. He recommended giving chase by ground, while continuing to plan for flights. Weather, he indicated, would be an issue; tomorrow was supposed to be a bright, sunny day in Missouri and several other points west.

"Remember, Edward; she won't risk exposure, either. She'll be stalled as well until nightfall."  
"Yes, of course. Thank you."

Turning to Jasper, Edward opened his mouth to invite Jasper to depart, then froze, a primal scream of fear piercing his skull suddenly, sending shockwaves through his body. _Alice._

"Jasper..."

"Alice?"

"She's trying to call you. She needs you. Now. I'll cross after Victoria. HURRY."

Edward watched his brother's tall, muscular frame disappear into the distant darkness, dust swirling up from his tracks, clouding the air, reflecting the moon's light. In his right hand, his fingers flew and dialed Alice's cell on instinct, the phone pressed quickly to his left ear. One ring... two... three...four... Edward heard her pick up, but no sounds were uttered on the other end.

"He's coming, Alice. His phone broke."

"I'm... The beginning... It's just... too... much..."

"He'll be there very soon. Victoria's gone west; I'm following her. I love you Alice. Stay strong, okay? Jasper is coming."

"Soon... The White Rabbit... I..."

The phone disconnected. Edward hesitated a minute, wondering if he should follow Jasper, then opted to cross the river, trusting that if Alice would be safe with anyone, it would be Jasper. But Bella was unprotected, and he could not let her be harmed. Victoria needed to be found, and destroyed like her wretched lost lover. Backing up a hundred feet, Edward studied the distances for a minute, mental calculations whirring, then broke into the fastest run he could, taking flight at the water's edge.


	11. Chapter 9: History

_Chicago, IL 1949_

The young couple sprawled across the luxurious bed, the young girl on her stomach, knees kicking lazily, twirling the small pincurls at the side of her face with her right index finger absently as she flipped through the newspaper, taking notes that resembled a gibberish of licence plate numbers. The man watched her, lying on his side, his dress shirt unbuttoned, head perched upon his left arm, smiling and calm. His right hand reached out slowly to fiddle with the hem of her black satin dress, fingertips grazing her knees. She laughed and kicked harder, intent on the pages before her.

"I'm working! Behave yourself a few moments longer."

"Work, work, work... Isn't the man supposed to bring home the bacon?"

"Not when the woman can make it faster and in larger quantities," she replied, tossing the newspaper at her companion's grinning face.

The woman rolled onto her back, closing her eyes, and the man withdrew his wandering hand, knowing she needed to concentrate now. Minutes slipped by, her eyes flickering slightly, as if she were dreaming vividly. Her face relaxed, a wide grin creeping upon her brightly painted pink lips, as they sprung open. She immediately clapped her hands in glee, digging into the suitcase beside the bed for a catalogue, flipping pages until she settled upon a pale blue taffeta confection, off the shoulder with a long billowing skirt.

"It will be mine!" She declared, waving the catalogue.

He eyed the price tag, "Are you certain?"

She nodded, "One of my investments is about to pay off tomorrow; someone's company was just granted a lucrative contract that will send their shares soaring. And someone in this room bought a healthy number of shares at a very low price."

"You'll look beautiful, Alice."

"I know, Jasper," she replied coyly.

Jasper laughed, tugging the catalogue free from her tiny hands and tossing it to the floor, pouncing upon her, raining kisses along her pale neck. Alice squirmed and giggled, pushing him off half-heartedly, begging for mercy while tugging at his shirt.

"The dress! It's new!"

"Fine," Jasper murmured, "I'll mind it, alright."

With a light push, he rolled Alice onto her back and felt her tense as he slowly unzipped the garment with his teeth, growling playfully as his mouth moved lower, towards her hips, revealing a black lacy slip underneath. Still as a doll, she allowed herself to be rolled and moved as he undressed her, an artful toss landing her satin dress on the lounge chair across their modest hotel room. It landed with a flutter that mimicked the shiver down his spine at the sight of her nearly nude form. Shedding his shirt with little care, letting it tumble to the ground, he pulled her close against him, her head nestled against his muscular white chest, her fingers drifting along his ribs, a happy murmur emanating from her throat.

"It's hard to believe you waited so long for me," Jasper mused aloud, "How did you know that it would be this way?"

"I didn't. I simply believed that you had to be special for my mind to focus so clearly on our paths crossing. As the years went by, I began to lose faith in that vision, but I never completely gave up. There was nothing else to anchor myself to in the meantime. And now I've found you, I have more hope than ever that we'll find Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Emmett and Rosalie."

Jasper kissed her head, his arms wrapping tighter about her petite frame, "And there I was, feeling hopeless, despairing, and you were out there, full of hope in anticipation of me. I'm just sorry I kept you waiting for so long."

"You were worth the wait. You had your battles to wage, both personal and physical," Alice answered, turning to gaze up into Jasper's eyes.

"I did indeed have those. It's funny, how my life as a vampire has mirrored my human life in so many ways. I was born and raised to be a soldier, someone who would lay down his life to defend his country, even lied to become a member of the Confederates, only to be targeted for the change because of my choice in career. Of course, the reality of war hit harder in this immortal life, it seems... Has it been the same for you?"

Alice frowned, silently turning away, gazing absently at the scars trailing along Jasper's arms, tracing them lightly with her fingers. Jasper was confused: had he reminded this beautiful creature of something painful and sad she'd long forgotten, brushed aside in her delight at finding someone she'd sought for over twenty years? His left hand reached to cradle her chin, turning her eyes back to meet his. The deep brown wells seemed darker now, brimming with tears impossible to shed.

"Alice... what did I say?"

Her reply was the faintest whisper: "I don't remember it."

"Remember what?"

"My life. Any of it. I don't even have a last name. I remember awakening somewhere near water... The sun was brilliant and intense, far too bright for March. It felt like I'd been blinded at first. Several minutes passed by and I adjusted, only... I remember something startling me, and I ran. In those first days, I saw you, in a beautiful meadow, with me. We looked so at peace. And soon after, I saw the Cullens, saw meeting them, hearing them speak their names to each other. But my life, as a human... I see nothing but blackness."

"Oh Alice... I didn't know... I knew you'd never met the one who changed you, but I had no idea that your entire history was a blank slate."

Alice squirmed, working her way up Jasper's body to meet his lips with a gentle kiss, "It's okay. Sometimes, it confuses me; I feel incomplete, as if I'm somehow not a whole person without memories to understand myself. I spent a lot of time studying biology and psychology, trying to find a reason why I can't recall who I was. I assume my family was dead, or perhaps I developed amnesia of some kind and wandered away alone. Perhaps that's how I met my end. Maybe I struck my head and forgot who I was. But in the end, who I was isn't who I am now. It's not as if I can return to that life, now can I? My life is you, now. It will be that way as long as you'll have me. And hopefully, it will be with a new family, if I'm ever able to find them."

Jasper laughed, "As if I'd ever not wish to be with you. You're the embodiment of hope for me. You would be the air I breathed, were such air necessary for us. We have an eternity to build memories together."

Alice grinned, "It's nice to know at least _one_ vampire wants to stick around me..."

"This monster will never, ever set you free..." Jasper murmured, his lips finding hers and kissing her deeply.

Alice's hands tangled into Jasper's hair as they continued to kiss, his hands wandering to caress the bodice of her slip, slipping down to grab at her waist as she slid forward to straddle his wide hips. A near-purr slipped from her throat as she fumbled with his belt, frantically unbuckling it and attacking the button of his once neatly pressed black slacks. Her curls spilled forward as his mouth seized her neck, biting gently, lifting his hips to facilitate Alice's demand for his pants to be shed. Her hands roamed his chest briefly before seizing the sheer fabric covering her frame, tugging it harshly over her head, the force of her pull sending it slapping into the room door. She giggled at this, and Jasper took the moment of distraction to roll them over, his hands gripping her tiny wrists, pinning them above her head.

"Now that's not very gentleman-like, Mr. Whitlock," she coyly whispered.

"Who said I was a perfect gentleman?" he growled back, sucking gently at her left ear.

"I think... mmm... You did, once."

"That," Jasper mumbled, "was probably right before the first time you pushed me into a bed."

Alice laughed softly, "Oh yes. I forgot."

"Face it," Jasper murmured into her ear, his tongue flicking at her neck, "You bring out the animal in me."

Alice writhed as Jasper's hands released her wrists, his left slipping down to cup her breast. Unleashed, she threw her arms around his neck, inhaling his scent, sucking at his collarbone. Her legs wrapped about his frame, pinning him against her, only the barest of material separating them now. He sighed with deep satisfaction at her touch, pulling away to stare at her face, admiring her playful smile.

"It seems impossible, if one listens to the folklore, to imagine such dark creatures loving so completely," he mused.

Alice nodded, "It goes to show how little stories can mean. But I do love you, and will love you always."

"I love you, Alice. Impossibly."

Alice smiled, "Impossibly and forever?"

Jasper nodded, grazing her lips with his, "Impossibly and unquestionably for forever."

Alice winked, "Now that's settled... Can we play?"

Jasper nodded, and silently, the remainder of their clothes were shed hurriedly, their bodies twisting and arching together in harmony. Once two lost beings, they had become a single entity, one that shimmered with a light more brilliant than their skin on a summer's day. Alice soon forgot all sadness that had trickled in from considering her lack of past, mesmerized by her first and only lover and love. And when Jasper's mouth met the inside of her thigh, she also forgot the dress she'd lusted over for weeks...

At least, until the next morning.


	12. Chapter 10: House of Cards

_"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked. __  
__"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." __  
__"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. __  
__"You must be," said the Cat, "otherwise you wouldn't have come here."_  
_**Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll**_

_Tunica, MS, present day_

Alice lay in the small valley upon her right side, the moon barely visible in the corner of her left eye, branches, dead leaves and debris sticking to her coat. The ground was colder than she was, and the shock of that sent her mind spinning. The sounds of the river nearby were somehow soothing, despite her increasing impatience for Jasper to arrive. The air, the scenery, the smells even weighed heavily, pushing down upon her until she felt as if she were sinking into a strange quicksand, her body stuck to this precise spot, immobilized with the shock of coming face to face with the exact spot where her earliest memory had played out. Her fingertips grazed the twigs and dirt, tracing circles, the mud clinging to her fingernails.

Somehow, it felt like home, as if this dank, dirty place was where she belonged.

Had the asylum been this way? A dirty, cold room, curled up alone, abandoned and unsure of herself? Did she spend nights in terror, wondering if anyone would ever come to take her away to somewhere safe and warm? Even if Alice could not recall those years, she sensed this was the closest she'd ever be to understanding her life as a mortal being. It was that vision, that innate understanding of the parallels, that had left her shaken so badly she'd scarcely been able to dial Jasper's number. For reasons she couldn't quite comprehend, the act of standing, usually rather easy for vampires, felt difficult. Alice, for the first time since her change, felt genuinely weak and helpless, unable to defend herself. And although she knew Victoria had long looped west, she also knew that were her fiery locks and blazing eyes to appear from behind a tree or from within the water, she would be dead.

"Jazz... Hurry..."

She searched for him, brought his face into her mind, clutching it like a dreamy talisman. He was nearing her now; he'd paused at the shores west of Memphis and reaffirmed his direction, realizing she'd stuck close to the water, and tore down the shore, his face more determined now than she'd ever seen it. He was near. But not near enough. Edward, she'd known almost two hours ago, had decided to continue west across the river alone. Alice did not fault him that; that was how she wanted it to be. He needed to pursue Victoria, and hopefully return to Bella's side. In time, he would; she'd seen his future waver more frequently in the last month or so, switching between a life beside Bella and a lonely existence somewhere warm, possibly Mexico. He was growing tired of depriving himself of his light.

Alice rolled wearily onto her back, her arms stretching out, grasping at the tiny pieces of wood beside her, feeling delicate pricking from what felt like thorns. The pain helped her centre her mind, focus her attention on her memory. _How did I get here? How did I get here before I awoke? Was I burning here?_ Her mind whirled, dizzying flashes of Jasper breaking through images of her confusion, of her awakening, her fear and her instinctive knowledge of her new strength. Pushing herself harder than she ever had, she shoved away the future and reached for the earth, grasping handfuls of the dirt and releasing them, beseeching it to speak to her, to tell its secrets...

_A blue dress. The skirt was in tatters. Insects moved through her hair, making it feel as if it were alive, a separate squirming entity.__  
__Blindness. The white light. There was so much light, it felt impossible to believe that so much light could exist._  
_The book. It was under her back, buried slightly in the earth; it budged easily with a tug on the cover. It opened..._  
_The noise. Stirring in the trees. Predators. RUN. _

"James," Alice whispered, feeling the pieces come together. James must have seen her in her waking moments, opting not to tangle with the power of a newborn vampire. The fun of it was lost for him anyway, the moment her creator had turned her into one of them. Was he already dead by that point? Had James found them, Alice on fire, and taken his rage out upon the one person who'd taken pity on her in her madness and spared her a brutal death?

Would she have been better off dead, if her life was anything like this hole in the ground?

_No._ _I wouldn't have met Jasper. I wouldn't have my family._

"Jazz..." It was a hoarse whisper of a prayer.

Her right hand slid across the earth, jumping back as something sharp jabbed her palm. Alice lolled her head to the side, her fingers carefully tugging at the object, a triangular wedge that felt smooth but textured. Her fingers clawed around it, loosening the earth restraining it, and she pulled harder, shaking the large leather-bound tome free from its tomb. Her hand shook as she dusted the cover, pulling it close to her chest. Her hands struggled to open the volume, the pages half-crumpled from water damaged, some sticking together, refusing to be parted. Her thumb slid the first page away, revealing the answer to a long-unsolved riddle.

_To Alice, from your White Rabbit_

"Alice... He called me Alice..."

_I must have seen this before I was startled_, Alice reasoned. _It's how I knew what to call myself._ A wave of relief crashed over her, blended with the confusion and shock. Her name was hers, at least; there was a reason she'd clung to it. It was the one piece of the puzzle she'd known. Turning the page, a nervous laugh slipped past her lips, the book's title page at once surprising her and making as much sense as her journey could possess at this point.

_Alice's Adventures In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll_

_Down the rabbit hole, indeed. _Shuddering in spite of herself, Alice turned the page, and began to read her book, the last gift bestowed upon her in her mortal life...

Jasper moved swiftly, his worry turning into frantic desperation to see Alice, to touch her face, to hold her tight and never let her out of his sight again. He desperately fought against blaming Edward for the mess, knowing in his heart that Alice was a stubborn woman in spite of her girlish and carefree appearance; it would have taken Edward and Emmett together to restrain her physically from departing on this mission of hers alone, and that would have only worked if they'd been able to catch her before she danced away. He couldn't blame Alice, either, as much as he wanted to scream at her, for she'd always been so accommodating and understanding of his own missteps and failings. It was something she'd felt compelled to undertake, and he had not been able to stand in her way in Ithaca. Blaming himself was equally pointless.

Blame would not keep her safe from Victoria. Getting to her side _would_.

A lilting trace of Victoria's scent blended with Alice's familiar aroma in the air he inhaled, and he felt his lip curl back, a slight snarl emerging from his throat. If anything happened to Alice, be it through Victoria's hands or simply her vengeful mind games with Edward, he would tear her apart into the two hundred or so pieces he could create dividing her by the bone, and burn each one with a pyromaniac's glee. Alice had been robbed of too much and torn apart by James' words for far too long for him to abide any further hurt to his wife. He inhaled again, memorizing Victoria's musky trail, his own tracking mission firmly embedded in his list of things to accomplish after bringing Alice back to Ithaca safely.

He forked west, closer to the river's edge, avoiding tracking through the towns as best he could, knowing Alice would be somewhere near the rushing deep blue water that droned in his ears. Its white noise held a powerful cancelling effect - so powerful he did not hear her voice at first, a quiet whispering moving through the trees and underbrush. It too, sounded almost as if it were a droning, a humming, a slightly musical lilt to it that beckoned the listener near.

"Alice?" He whispered into the darkness, his eyes searching desperately across the field and finding nothing.

He moved slowly now, scanning every inch of surface, gazing into the tree branches now and again, knowing Alice often perched above ground, a feline instinct for escape. The ground proved unsteady, with crevices, dips and rocks making it difficult footing even for his kind. Closing his eyes, he listened carefully, finally catching the faintest whisper to his left, changing course to approach it.

"But I don't want to go among mad people, Alice remarked..."

"Alice? Where are you?" Jasper felt panic rising within him, wondering why she would not respond.

"We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad..."

His feet carried him to what at first appeared to be an empty clearing, several piles of mulch, fallen leaves and other tree debris scattered among it. The clouds above shifted, and a tiny stream of moonlight added a glimmer to a shape in the farthest pile. Squinting, Jasper could sense the outline of an arm... a tiny hand... He felt as if he were being crushed in the grip of a vise. Seven enormous steps flew him to Alice's side, the movement somehow not registering with her, nor interrupting her reading.

"How do you know I'm mad? said Alice. You _must be_, said the Cat; otherwise, you wouldn't have come here..."

Jasper knelt beside her, brushing the leaves and twigs from her hair, "Alice! Are you alright?"

Her eyes widened, shifting from the page to gaze into his, "Jazz?"

"Yes, Alice. Are you hurt?"

"Only my mind..." Alice mumbled, shutting the book, "It's... So much at once... I..."

Jasper placed his finger to her lips, "Rest. I'm taking you home."

"It's mine... My name... The book, it says so..."

Jasper looked to the beaten-up text clutched tightly in her hand, "Was it here? This was where...?"

Alice's eyes fluttered, "I woke up... It was left for me that day...Jazz, I can't..."

Jasper scooped her into his arms easily, kissing her forehead, "I can. I love you so much, Alice,"

Alice smiled weakly, "Impossibly... and forever..."

Cradling her to his chest, Jasper kissed her eyes gently, willing her to relax with more determination than he'd ever used his talents for. She murmured incoherently, a stream of consciousness rambling about rabbits and the water and James as he ran towards Kentucky, terrified at the mental disintegration one day had done to her. _Never again. Where she is, I am, forever._ Sailing past trees, houses and roads, the usually unquenchable thirst in his throat completely forgotten, Jasper fought the urge to make any plans regarding Alice's health and care, mindful of her gift's limitations. He'd seen this before, in his human life, and it struck him to his core to even consider the notion, let alone consider its permanency. But the winding words and strange metaphors spilling from her lips in jumbled bursts spoke of one awful truth:

Alice was broken.


	13. Chapter 11: Mad Girl

_Biloxi, MS, Nov. 11, 1908_

Louisa Brandon cradled her 9 month-old daughter Cynthia in her right arm, her tiny fingers toying with her long wavy hair as she walked slowly down the back corridor of the house towards her eldest child's bedroom. It was nearly seven in the morning; why Mary hadn't risen yet, she did not understand. Often, Mary was awake before the sun rose, quietly reading a book by the oil lamp in the study. But this morning, she'd heard no signs of her rousing. Louisa began to worry that Mary was falling ill with the dreadful cold circulating amongst their church. Cynthia squirmed, and Louisa caught hold of her as she attempted to dangle her head and arms, giggling. Her light brown ringlets danced as she shook her head side to side.

Louisa nudged the door open with her foot, calling gently to the raven-haired girl nearly buried beneath the down comforter, "Mary? Mary, it's time to get up."

A tiny fist stretched out from beneath the covers, fingers stretching and flexing, tangling in the long, dark waves of hair splayed over the pillow. With a yawn, her blue eyes popped open, and suddenly, Mary was very alert. As Louisa drew closer, it became clear that her daughter was very upset.

"Oh Mother! Are they going to be okay? Did the doctors fix them?"

"Fix who? Mary, what are you prattling on about?"

Mary clutched a brown bunny beside her, "The people! The ones who crashed in the train. Oh Mother, it was dreadful! There was a young boy, only three, and he was crushed and his poor mother was hurt too! And there was a man laying on the ground, and no one would help him."

Tears began to stream from Mary's eyes as she buried her face in her mother's skirt. Louisa, dumbfounded, sat down beside her on the bed, hugging her close with her left arm, stroking her long hair, humming a soothing tune. Cynthia reached out, hands clenching and unclenching, her gesture for wanting a hug.

"Mary," Louisa replied softly, "There was no train crash. You must have had quite a horrible dream."

Mary hiccuped, her breathing strangled from her sobs, "But I saw it Mother... It was so clear..."

Louisa nodded, "Nightmares are always very real. Everyone has them. I had one about you, once. You ran off into a field and I could not find you. But I woke up and there you were, playing with your doll in bed."

"Are you quite sure it wasn't real?" Mary asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I am. There was nothing in the papers at all. Now, are we ready to wash up and dress?"

Mary nodded, "Yes, mother. I don't know why I slept so late today."

Louisa felt her forehead, "You don't seem to be ill at all. I suppose it's a growth spurt of some kind. Maybe your body wants extra rest this week. I have to feed Cynthia, love, but call if you need me."

"Yes, Mother. I love you."

Louisa smiled, "I love you too. Now, rise and shine!"

Mary scampered from her bed, immediately tidying the covers and pillow as was her custom. She was such an easy child to care for, Louisa often told her friends at their bridge games. She was tidy and quiet, content with one of her books tucked away in a corner. She enjoyed her studies at school, and teachers complimented her on her rich vocabulary and vivid imagination in her drawings. _Perhaps her imagination's grown a little too vivid_, Louisa wondered to herself, settling Cynthia into a chair and preparing her oatmeal. She would have to check through Mary's book collection for stories of trains while she was at school today. But where on earth would she come up with such a thing as a small child perishing in a train crash along with many others?

_No. Not again. It's not one of those..._

Cynthia cooed and gurgled happily in a welcome distraction from Louisa's worries, her two teeth gumming happily through the sticky porridge. Mary soon joined them, her skin pink from scrubbing, her hair brushed, dressed in a simple pink dress with a lacy white ribbon cinching it at the waist. She stood on her tiptoes, attempting to stretch her four foot frame to seize her own bowl of porridge, causing Louisa to chuckle as she reached to slide it forward into Mary's reach. Cynthia clapped her hands, happy as always to see her sister, and Mary sang a little tune for her, rubbing her nose against the tiny one that crinkled with laughter.

"You have to leave soon, Mary. No reading before classes today, sweetheart."

Mary nodded, frowning slightly as she swallowed her food, "Will Father be home today?"

"Yes, he'll be home for supper. If you've been a good girl, perhaps he'll bring you a new story to read."

Mary smiled widely, "Oh I hope so! I haven't had a new book in so long."

A knock upon the door signalled the arrival of Mrs. Swenson, their elderly neighbour from three doors down who walked several of the children the two blocks to the elementary school each day. Mary shovelled one last bite into her mouth, wiped her chin neatly, then kissed her mother and sister goodbye, scooping up her books on her way to the door. Mrs. Swenson's grey hair was coiled into a soft chignon, tiny stray wisps drifting alongside her face. She smiled brightly at the sight of young Mary.

"Well hello little miss! Are we ready to fetch our friends and set off for school?"

"Yes indeed! Is Johnny sick again today?"

Mrs. Swenson nodded, "Aye. Wee lad had quite the cough last night. His mama figures it's best he rest one more day."

"Hello Mrs. Swenson! How's the family doing?" Louisa asked, rocking side to side to lull Cynthia towards her morning nap.

"Beth and Jim are well. The doctor confirmed that she's in the family way. Jim's off and building a crib already," the elderly woman replied, beaming, "A great-grandchild! Makes a woman feel proud, but old!"

Louisa laughed, "You're not old; you're experienced."

Mrs. Swenson chuckled, "That I most certainly am. Come Miss Brandon; the teachers await!"

Louisa waved Cynthia's hand, watching them head down the driveway, Mary obediently holding the kindly woman's hand, "Have a good day, Mary. Study hard!"

"I will, Mother! Goodbye, Cynthia!"

By the time Mary had disappeared completely from view, Louisa's mind had turned to the day's chores, completely forgetting about her eldest's nightmare visions of trains and bodies until that evening, when her husband arrived home, visibly shaken.

"Louisa?" William Brandon called out, stepping through the doorway lugging a briefcase and his long black coat.

"William! In the kitchen, dear," she answered, stirring the stew upon the stove.

William's ashen face caught her attention immediately as she turned to greet her husband of 10 years. His eyes were tired looking, as if the day had aged him in some unknown manner. His hair, normally combed back smoothly, was slightly unkempt, giving him a haggard appearance. Louisa's eyes widened, and she abandoned the large pot upon the stove, wiping her hands upon her apron as she reached out to smooth his black locks.

"What on earth happened to you? Did you not sleep well in New Orleans?"

William reached for the large pine chair beside him, sliding it out methodically and settling into the seat, "No, I slept fine. It's been a very long day. Has the word made it here yet?"

"Word of what?"

"The train collision in Little Woods this morning. It delayed me about forty minutes, with the wreckage and all. It was a dreadful sight, Louisa. They're saying several were killed, and more may very well die of their injuries."

"A... train crashed?" Louisa felt the blood draining from her own face.

"Yes," William sighed, "One poor woman lost her young son. Oh Louisa, I spent the last few hours wondering how we'd ever cope if one of our daughters were to be taken so cruelly."

"That's... That's terrible... And this happened today?"

"Yes, around eight thirty or so. The word was that the train that was struck had not followed procedure and staff were to be arrested for the crash. Louisa, are you alright?"

"It's just... Mary..."

William's eyes widened in understanding. He rose to his feet, pulling his curvaceous wife to hers, holding her tightly against him, her slight stature towered over by his six feet of sinewy muscle concealed in his usual suit. He whispered softly into her hair, stroking the thick waves, reassuring his wife that everything would be fine, that God would never curse a child as kind and well-mannered as Mary, that it was a coincidence. Louisa shook her head, pulling away to return to the stove just in time to spare the stew from scalding.

"How much detail?" William whispered.

"She knew about the boy..."

"She always seems to zero in on the children..."

Louisa carefully shut the stove off, leaning against the countertop, suddenly exhausted, "William, it's not natural. It's not right. It's the devil's work."

"Louisa, you mustn't think it -"

"He's attacking the kindest child because he enjoys perverting the most innocent! We cannot allow this to continue!"

Down the hall, the hungry cry of Cynthia drifted from her crib to their ears, immediately ending the conversation. William headed towards the high-pitched wails, softly calling the little girl's name, swooping her up in a tight embrace, tickling underneath her chin until tears gave way to laughter. The back door swung open with a slight squeak, signalling the return of Mary from her piano lessons with Mrs. Swenson. Tiny feet ran down the hall, skidding slightly around the corners of halls until Mary found her father in the nursery.

"You're home! Father, I missed you!"

William smiled, crouching down to let Mary hug him, "I missed you too, my big girl. Have you behaved for your mother?"

Mary nodded, "I helped her with the chores last night, and all of my school work is done. Want to see?"

"After dinner, we'll take a look. Your mother's finishing up. Would you please finish setting the table?"

"Yes, Father!"

William watched Mary skip into the kitchen, eager to assist as she always was, weighing his wife's words. Could these dreams, growing ever more frequent, be the work of the devil? But why would God not shield their daughter? Why would he allow her to be taken in this way? They attended church weekly and lived wholesome lives. Their daughters were happy and healthy children, neither offering any real trouble. Louisa could not be right; it just was not possible to imagine a God that would leave the soul of an innocent unguarded in this way.

He dismissed the notion outright, returning to the book in his case that he had brought home for Mary, _The Tale Of Peter Rabbit_. For all her fascination with rabbits, he'd somehow overlooked this storybook before now. Without reading a word of the story, he was certain Mary would treasure it.

Dinner passed relatively quietly, idle chatter between Mary and her father filling the large gaps of silence. Mary had learned to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star upon the piano that day, and was eager to demonstrate it at next week's party celebrating Beth and Jim's pregnancy news. William congratulated her, and asked about her mathematics, to which she sighed and stated fractions were too simple. William chuckled and assured her that she was only 8 years old and math would surely be harder soon enough. Dinner finished, William ushered his eldest into the study to present her with her book. At the sight of the cover, Mary shrieked with delight, reaching out eagerly to take hold of what would be her prized possession.

"Oh Father! A rabbit story! This is the most wonderful book I could ever read. Thank you so much!"

"You're very welcome, Mary Alice. Go on, then; begin reading it. I want to know all about Peter's adventures."

Mary curled up in front of the fireplace after fetching her toy rabbit, her tiny body sprawled along her stomach, eyes glued to the pages. Each illustration brought a minute's pause, and William could almost hear her mind bringing the images to life in her head. Louisa settled Cynthia down for the night after her late feeding, retiring to bed with a headache. William, weary from the long train ride home from his business trip in Louisiana, fell asleep in his rocking chair, the fire still burning brightly as Mary slowly turned the pages of her book. Hours passed, with William sinking into a dream of fishing with his father as a young lad, catching an enormous trout and running home proudly to show it off. _Mother!_ he cried out. _Look! Mother..._

"MOTHER!!"

William snapped awake, the terrified scream coming from down the hall. The clock on the mantel read three twenty-nine. Leaping to his feet, nearly tripping over a small oak table, he headed down the back hallway towards the sounds of Mary crying out. Louisa had already risen, her nightgown billowing in the drafty hall as she nearly collided with William at Mary's door. Throwing it open, they found Mary in her blue nightgown, shoving away her covers and running towards them. Relief crossed her face at the sight of her parents, and she ran towards her mother, sobbing.

"Mary! Whatever is wrong?" Louisa asked frantically.

"Cynthia! You have to fetch the doctor! Where is she?"

"Calm down, Mary. What are you on about? Why does she need a doctor?" William asked.

"The fever! She's burning! It's so hot. Make her cool. Cynthia!" Mary wailed, trying desperately to push between her parents.

Down the hall, the baby awoke, shrieking at the top of her lungs in fright. Louisa rushed towards the nursery, Mary on her heels, William following in a daze.

_No... This can't be another of those dreams..._

Louisa scooped up Cynthia, rocking her gently, feeling her forehead, "William... "

William reached out to take the baby, his hand pressing against her skin, "She's hot..."

"I'll fetch her a cloth," Louisa said, rushing towards the bathroom.

"Father, she's sick! Help her!"

"Mary Alice, please, let me think..."

"Cynthia, be okay," Mary whispered, her eyes swollen red from her tears.

Louisa rushed back with a damp cloth, pressing it to the tiny forehead. Cynthia fussed slightly, but seemed to settle at the touch of the cool fabric upon her skin. Mary circled them, desperately trying to reach up and touch her sister. Louisa snapped at her, ordering her back to bed. William attempted to interject but found himself distracted by the small red bumps on Cynthia's chubby legs.

"But Mother, I want to help -"

"There's nothing you can do to help now! Go to bed, Mary Alice."

"Mother, _please -_"

It was then that, to William's horror and surprise, Louisa struck her daughter across the face.

"Louisa! Mind your temper! She's your daughter."

"She's not my child anymore. The devil has her. Give me Cynthia."

William handed the sick baby over reluctantly, "This isn't Mary's fault..."

"It _is_ her fault, William. Because she's mad. She's the devil's messenger, a harbinger of death. And now she's bringing his messages into my home, my family. You will NOT take both of my daughters from me, Prince of Darkness!"

Louisa stormed off into her bedroom, humming a lullaby to soothe Cynthia back to slumber, leaving William standing, his face stricken with horror, beside his crimson-faced daughter, her jaw gaping, too stunned to cry. William slowly knelt down beside Mary, holding his arms out towards her. Silently, she fell into them, her chest heaving from the rapid-fire movement of the air into and out of her lungs. Gently, he lifted her up, carrying her back to her bedroom, laying her down gently upon the pillow and fetching her fallen rabbit from the floor. Beside the bed lay her new book, a marker halfway through the text.

"She's just upset," William whispered, tucking the covers around Mary, "Don't pay her any mind."

"I just wanted to help..." Mary said sadly, wringing her tiny hands.

"I know, Mary Alice. I do not begin to know how you know what you do, but I do know it scares your mother. And sometimes," he admitted, sitting down at the foot of the bed, "It scares me, too."

"Father, I'm not evil, am I? I try so hard to be good."

William sighed, "You are my daughter. If evil were to take control of you, it would not make _you_ evil. You understand me? It wouldn't be your fault."

"What can I do to stop it?" Mary whispered.

"Tell no one of your dreams. Never speak of them again. Pretend they do not happen. Maybe they will stop happening if you do not speak of them. Can you do that?"

Mary nodded, "I will do it, Father. Please don't forsake me."

William kissed her forehead, "I won't. Now sleep, Mary Alice."

William rose, stretching his arms over his head, standing watch briefly at the doorway. Mary clung tightly to her rabbit, her thumb nestled in her mouth, a habit she'd abandoned three years ago. Looking down the hallway towards the ajar door to his own room, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for Louisa's fear and anger, and the sick child with her. If Mary could truly stop speaking of her dreams, whatever they were, maybe he could convince Louisa to be calm, to remain kind and loving towards their child. He could not lose his Mary, nor could he abandon his wife, who he loved beyond all else.

If Mary could pretend she did not see, he could pretend he did not fear for her soul. And if he did not fear for her, Louisa's nagging desire to place her in the care of a church or doctors would fade away, leaving them the happy family they were before Mary's eighth birthday. If only...

Laying quietly in her bed, Mary prayed to God to save her from the bad dreams. She prayed to no longer need sleep, so she could never dream again. She prayed for her Mother to still love her. She prayed for her sister to be well. But her last prayer, the one most in earnest, she spoke aloud:

"Please God, help me pretend that I don't see what I see. Please don't let me end up in the dark hole. Please..."

God did not answer her.


	14. Chapter 12: Advice From A Troubled Siste...

_Ithaca, NY, present day_

Jasper pursued Carlisle to his BMW, his eyes wide and frantic, throwing himself in front of the driver's side door as a means of delay.

"You have to be able to do something for her!"

"Jasper, she needs time. She will come around. Edward said her mind is sound enough, and there are no medications that will work on a vampire."

"But surely, you could speak with her? Talk therapy? Carlisle, she's barely moved in two weeks! She's desperately in need of a hunt and I cannot even get her to walk downstairs with me."

"And you've tried your gift?" Carlisle inquired, knowing the answer.

"It keeps her from shaking, but it hasn't shattered her reverie in any sense. Carlisle... She's my world. You understand that. I need to help her."

Jasper turned his gaze towards their bedroom window, knowing without seeing that Alice was sitting on the bed, curled beneath a blanket, turning the pages in a dusty leather book, her concentration unshakeable. At best, he'd learned he could manage a conversation as the book was finished, but eventually, her eyes would haze, and her hands would re-open it at the beginning. Sometimes, she read aloud, almost theatrically, giving each character a voice. Other times, she sat silently, reading each page excruciatingly slow. Jasper now missed the human need for sleep; if she were able to sleep, he would be able to hide the book from her and force her to talk.

Carlisle placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder, "I have faith in Alice. I sense she's trying to make sense from the text in some specific way. Be there for her. Give her space as well. Rosalie and Emmett are home now; perhaps they can help distract her. I don't disagree that she needs to talk to us; Esme's beside herself with worry, what with Edward gone to Vancouver after that spate of killings there and Alice out of sorts. But she's had a tremendous shock. She deserves some time to _be in shock_. If she worsens, call me."

Jasper sighed, "I hope you're right, Carlisle. I just want to see her smile again. She doesn't smile."

Carlisle gently moved past him, unlocking the car and stowing his briefcase in the back, "She will. Soon."

Jasper watched the car pull swiftly out of the driveway, his hands shaking slightly. Too much energy and too little to be done. He wanted action; he wanted a monster he could fight. He wanted to find whatever had harmed his Alice and destroy it utterly and completely, pluck her from her troubled delirium and bring her back to their world, where nights were spent under the stars, their bodies barely touching and yet alive with passion. Nights in the study, reciting plays and poetry for fun, their laughter lilting through the house. Nights spent in bed, endless moments of ecstasy and joy, his mouth upon her flesh, devouring every inch in frenzied kisses, every time as magical as the first.

Slipping inside the front door, Jasper nearly collided with Esme, who was emerging from the living room. Her caramel hair was loosely braided, her chocolate brown dress adding a hint of copper flame to the locks. Her amber eyes were filled with worry and sadness, and Jasper went to work immediately to soothe her. _At least Esme will still respond to my calming methods_, he mused.

"How is she doing, Jasper?"

"The same. Carlisle thinks it will end soon. I'm not so certain, myself. Apart from taking the book and burning it, I'm not certain what else I can do. But I fear the repercussions of taking from her the one tangible piece of her human life she possesses."

Esme nodded, embracing him, "No, we mustn't destroy it, and hiding it is far too difficult with Alice's gifts in play. We'd have to be incredibly indecisive about it. And what if we forgot where we'd placed it?"

Jasper sighed, "Have you tried speaking to her again?"

Esme shook her head, "It breaks my heart to see her this way. You know how dear all of my children are to me. I cannot bear this immense sadness that seeing her lost this way brings. It's far too close to my own experiences..."

Esme's voice trailed away, and Jasper stepped up his efforts to soothe her. Her words had reminded him of something he'd forgotten: Esme understood mental distress. Perhaps she could explain to Alice about how it wasn't something that should upset her or shame her. Esme was a wonderful mother, a thoughtful woman who had simply fallen into a deep state of grief. Alice was not alone in needing a time to absorb all she'd come to learn. And perhaps Esme could explain it to him, as well.

"Esme… When you… Why did you…?"

Esme nodded, "It's incredibly complex to explain to someone who has not been inside my head, Jasper. But picture, if you will, something that is the entire reason for hope in your life. The one thing that anchors you. It's the one accomplishment you feel you have in your life, and you would do anything to keep it safe."

_Alice_. _Loving Alice. Finding her._ Jasper nodded silently, noting Esme's mood slowly settling into a mellow calm.

Esme continued, "Now, what if a force beyond your control, something you never could have predicted nor thwarted, took that away from you? In your hands lays the broken form… Of what was once pure beauty and innocence. What can you do? You cannot turn to your other successes to reassure yourself that this was but one sad event, completely out of your control. You cannot undo what is done. What do you have left, when your worth is defined by that success that has now fallen to pieces?"

Esme turned towards the stairs, her eyes fixed on the door to Alice and Jasper's room, shaking her head, "What you do, is give up. Your mind begins to slow, because when you allow yourself to think, you can only see everything that might have been done in hindsight. You criticize every choice, every decision, looking for a magic bullet of an answer to how you might have saved what was so precious. You begin to wonder what sort of person you are, that you might let something so crucial slip through your grasp. You wonder what you may have done to deserve this awful tragedy. Some of us choose to decisively cease all our ruminating, all of our misery. Some of us reach out, and make it through. But some of us… Shut down and withdraw from the world. We go deep within, seeking a refuge from our own inner judge and jury."

Jasper nodded, feeling himself calm down ever so slightly. Esme was the first sort; she'd chosen to end her suffering in the most absolute way possible, only to be spared by fate's intervention. Alice was the third sort; she was using the book as a form of avoidance, losing herself in the pages until any fears about what else she might find ebbed away, bringing brief moments of peace. She was protecting herself. And, in doing so, she'd left Jasper helpless, feeling inadequate without some means of keeping her safe.

"Thank you, Esme," he finally said, barely audible, "I think… I think I know what she's doing now. I just wish she wouldn't shut me out…"

Esme smiled, embracing him warmly, "She hasn't completely shut you out, son. She called for you to bring her here, knowing it was safe. She trusted you to keep her body safe. She is tending to her mind. You have a role to play, and right now, that is convincing her to hunt. Her eyes are darker than I have ever seen. If it takes Emmett and Rosalie dragging her outside, please get her to drink today?"

"I will. It may take just that."

"They've gone out to explore the new territory just now; they barely had a chance before Rosalie became fixated on France. I'll send them up when they return."

Jasper forced a smile, heading up the spiral staircase slowly, bracing himself for the sight that had sent crushing waves of agony through his chest for weeks. He chanted, as if it were a mantra, his newly understood reassurance.

_She's protecting her mind. She's afraid of what she found. She's scared. She needs to feel safe. She loves you. She trusts you. She's protecting her mind…_

Opening the door slowly, he found his love where he'd left her, shrouded in a cashmere throw blanket in a rich shade of burgundy, her hair messier than usual, clad in black yoga pants and a v-neck baby blue sweater. She'd changed today, at least; that was comforting. She'd spent the first four days home clad in the same clothes he'd carefully dressed her in, discarding the muddy garments he'd found her in. Her delicate fingers turned the page, the book nearly done, a slight smile crossing her lips as she silently mouthed the text. Summoning his courage, he went to work, attempting to calm her, settling onto the bed beside her and placing his hand upon her shoulder.

"Alice… Could we talk please?"

She did not raise her eyes from the text, but her left hand raised slightly, quickly flashing her index finger. _One minute_. She turned to the last page, eyes rapidly scanning and absorbing the words that surely she'd memorized by now. Jasper fought the urge to strip it from her hands and toss it out the window. He needed to be patient with her.

Alice closed the book slowly, leaning against his chest slightly, "Yes?"

Waves of relief rolled through Jasper as he wrapped his arms around her, "Alice, sweetheart, you need to hunt. You're very thirsty."

"Am I? I didn't notice…"

Her voice trailed away, and her eyes shut for a few moments. Jasper wanted to cry out for joy. The last time he'd told her these very words, she'd simply announced that she needed to read and re-opened the book. This was progress, ever so slight. He rained kisses down upon her head, inhaling her scent, holding her tighter. He swore he heard a slight murmur slip from her lips.

"It's been two weeks, Alice. You've been distracted by your reading."

Alice's eyes opened, searching for the book on the bed, "Yes… The book…"

_No. No way._ Making a snap decision, Jasper took hold of the book, tossing it onto the desk across the room. Alice's jaw dropped open in surprise. She sat upright, but seemed torn between retrieving her treasure and remaining beside Jasper.

"Wha-what are you doing?"

Jasper turned Alice to face him, his face stern, "I won't take it away forever, though I've considered it strongly. But you need to hunt today, and you need to talk to me for more than two sentences. Please, Alice; don't you trust me?"

Alice looked hurt, her brow wrinkling, "You're my world, Jazz."

"Then let me help you deal with your mind, too. I know you're trying to hide in the book, but you cannot hide there forever. Everyone is worried sick. What are you hiding from?"

Alice's head shook furiously, "I can't… I can't, don't make me…."

"Alice…?" Jasper studied her face, willing her to calm down, feeling her resist.

"No, no, no, I can't…."

Alice buried her face suddenly in his chest, her body shuddering violently. Jasper clung to her as if letting go would mean her end. He rocked her gently, humming their song, the one Edward had composed for their wedding, a lilting melody that reminded Jasper of the way stars blinked and danced when reflected in the water's surface. The shuddering slowed, but Alice did not speak. It was the longest she'd interacted with him since they'd made it back to Ithaca.

"Alice, I won't let anything happen to you. You are my hope. You're my complement. Let me be your hope."

"You…are… I, I can't. I need the book. I can't."

Jasper sighed, "You need to drink. Do I have to bring a deer to you in bed? I will."

Alice shook her head furiously, pulling away, shaking herself as if to gain composure, "I'll go tonight. Later. I just need to read it once more…"

A firm rapping signalled the arrival of Emmett and Rosalie, who took one look at Alice and visibly registered shock. While Rosalie was more of a beauty queen in the Cullen household, Alice was known to be tidy and meticulous about her choice of clothing and accessories. The Alice before Rosalie now was the equivalent of a distracted soccer mom. Emmett forced a smile, opting for his usual strategy of careful deflection through humour.

"Hey bro! I thought we were going to bag us some chow. Are you trying to turn Alice into a smaller bag of bones than the pipsqueak already is?"

Jasper frowned, "She says she'll be up for it later tonight. How was the honeymoon? What was that, number 125?"

Rosalie shook her head, "42, actually. And tonight sounds fine, I suppose…Alice, we're going to have to outdo these boys tonight. I already placed my bet. You know how much I hate to lose."

Alice shrugged, her eyes fixed on the leather-bound object across the room, "Yeah, I guess… Jazz? Please?"

Jasper sighed, retrieving the text for her, reluctantly tossing it into her waiting hands. Emmett eyed him with confusion and Jasper shook his head. Rosalie stood silently, scrutinizing the scene. Alice immediately turned the pages, pausing upon the dedication page, smiling sadly, then turning to the first page. Jasper gestured for the door, and Emmett obediently followed, desiring answers. Rosalie did not move.

"Rose? You coming?" Emmett asked deliberately.

"No," she replied quietly.

Jasper moved towards her, but Emmett threw out a large arm, blocking his path, "Rose?"

Rosalie turned to him, her look firm, "My sister and I need some girl talk. Catching up. _Please_, give us a few minutes?"

Jasper refused to move, unsure if letting the ever-irritable Rosalie talk to the increasingly fragile pixie upon the bed was wise. Emmett shook his head no, and Rosalie stood firm, her eyes pleading with him in a silent argument. Jasper stepped towards her, then froze as a familiar voice drifted from the bed.

"She means well, Jazz. Leave us."

Alice never lifted her eyes from the book, but her face was calm. Jasper assumed her visions had carried her through the conversation Rosalie wished to start, and found it was nothing Jasper needed to worry over. Emmett threw an arm around Jasper's broad shoulders, ushering him from the room with a challenge of arm wrestling, shutting the door quietly behind them. Rosalie remained in the centre of the room, her golden eyes narrowing, evaluating the scene of a bedraggled young girl engrossed in a large book that consumed her tiny lap. After a minute's waiting, Rosalie's temper got the better of her.

"Alice, what the hell are you doing?"

"Reading," she replied, never losing her place.

"No, Alice. What are you _really _doing? You're reading this book on endless loop for a reason. Are you trying to spark your memory? Because frankly, if two weeks didn't do the trick, nothing will. Don't get me wrong: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is a great little story and all, and your name in the title is cute, but this goes beyond a good yarn."

"I'm... Safer when distracted..."

Rosalie nodded knowingly, sitting down on the end of the bed, "And if you're not distracted, what's going to happen?"

Even Rosalie wasn't prepared for the answer that emerged from Alice's lips: "I'm afraid I'll become angry like you."

Alice sat the book aside, sighing and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. She studied Rosalie's shocked expression and reached out for her hand, holding it tightly. She wished for Edward at that moment; he would be able to sift through her jumbled thoughts and help explain her words to Rosalie.

"I always understood why you went after them, Rose. A part of me feels a sympathetic satisfaction along with you, agrees that those... monsters got exactly what they deserved. But what I never understood was how the anger lingered inside you, and still does. You're a harder person than the rest of us, and a part of me has always been confused by this. You got your revenge. You have Emmett, and I see how bonded you two are. But sometimes, I feel like nothing will ever bring you true joy, and I... If I think of it, think of waking up alone, think of how I was locked away, think of James killing someone who, in his own way, was the only one who cared for me then... I feel this fire start in my stomach, this.. rage. And I've never felt rage that way. Anger, fear, protective instincts... yes. Not rage. I don't want to be hard, Rose. Does that make any sense?"

Rosalie contemplated Alice's words, rising to her feet and crossing to gaze out the window. Below, Emmett was attempting to coerce Jasper into a wrestling match in the front yard, to little avail. A faint smile crossed her lips at this sight of him, his strong body and goofy smile. He was her shelter. Over time, she'd fallen deeply in love with him, but at first, it was lust coupled with a desire for something more than sex. In Emmett, Rosalie saw strength and protection. No one would ever hurt her again, not with Emmett beside her.

"It wasn't what they did that made me this way, Alice. Not... entirely. What keeps me hard, as you put it, is knowing what I've done. I killed them, Alice. I killed them all. I struck terror into their hearts with the sight of me. I smiled as I broke them, broke them as they broke me. But when they died, this awful truth sunk in, something I've never erased, something I've scarcely explained to Emmett..."

Rosalie turned back to Alice, and in her eyes, Alice saw a vulnerability she'd never seen in her sister. It at once scared her and soothed her, for reasons she could not articulate.

"Alice, I may have made them pay. I may have had my revenge. But in turning into a murderer, they robbed me of another piece of my innocence, another piece that I will never have back. I will always be a killer, beyond the instinctual drives that we struggle with each day. I did not drink them. I killed them strictly to see them die. It changes you... It corrodes your mind, blurs every picture. No sunset is ever as beautiful again. Every sight of blood brings it back. They used me up, then drove me to compromise my morals. They won, even in losing their lives. I don't regret killing them; it helped me cling to my sanity. But I regret that I was changed, that I lived long enough to seek revenge, instead of dying, dirty, but innocent."

"Oh, Rose... I had no idea -"

"I try not to let anyone understand. I beg you, please, tell no one what we spoke of today. I tell you only because I hope you understand that hiding in this room will not make the rage go away. But everyone responsible for your past is dead now, Alice. There is no vengeance to harden you. There are only answers to be had."

"But... I'm not sure who I am, anymore... I'm so lost..."

Alice bent forward, curling her knees to her chest, rocking herself slowly. Rosalie hesitated, then sat down beside her, embracing her for perhaps the third time since she and Jasper had arrived at the Cullen home. She whispered gently, telling her over and over to let it all go. Alice willed her mind to slow, willed herself to listen to only her voice. _Let it go... Just let it go..._ Inside her, a weight lifted, ever so slightly. Rosalie was right; she'd hidden from the truth for far too long. Hiding here was letting James and her rage at him keep her from the knowledge she rightfully deserved, even if her life had been miserable.

"Who are you?" Rosalie asked softly.

"I - I don't -"

"Bullshit. Who are you?"

"Alice," she whispered.

"Alice who?"

"Alice Cullen."

"You damn well are Alice Cullen, so why the confusion? You know who you are; what you don't know is who you _were_. You're Jasper's wife. You're our sister. Esme and Carlisle are our parents. You love clothes, have fantastic taste, and you're the happiest, lightest soul of us. I'm envious of you, Alice. You've laughed and played and worried so completely, with all your heart, always. You've gone with the flow and simply accepted what we are, and made the most of it without knowing your history for so long. If you hesitate to live as freely after you learn all there is to know, you're letting them win again. Don't..." Rosalie's voice trailed off, a sharp edge of bitterness trickling in.

"You're... envious?" Alice was astonished at this revelation, "I've always longed to be pretty like you. I've always felt immature and silly, much of the time. A nuisance."

Rosalie shook her head, rolling her eyes, "We all have our role and place. I'm the Ice Queen. You're the Happy-Go-Lucky. So be happy. Now, will you please change and come hunting? Jasper's driving us around the damn bend and I'd like a few hours' peace with my husband after a long flight with screaming toddlers."

Alice chuckled, "Alright, alright. Don't say a word to him. I'll be down shortly, I promise."

Rosalie smiled faintly, then made her way towards the door, tossing her long blonde hair back over her shoulder. Alice shook herself, slowly rising from the bed, shedding the blanket around her shoulders. _Who knew Rosalie had a heart?_ Alice slowly sauntered towards her walk-in closet, her eyes catching sight of the book, the cover seeming to hover slightly open, beckoning her attention. She closed her eyes, searching her own future for the first time in weeks. Jasper was holding her outside, at their spot by the stream. He looked at peace. Her eyes were warm brown. Hunting it was, then. Selecting her favourite designer jeans and a lilac cashmere hooded sweater, Alice slowly began to dress, preparing herself for a world she'd evaded for far too long.

It was Esme who caught sight of her first, her face cautious at first, then bursting into a radiant smile as she rushed from her room to embrace Alice. Alice gestured for her to be quiet; she wanted to surprise Jasper. Esme understood, her hand reaching out to touch Alice's face, almost disbelieving the sight. _I have missed your light in these halls_, Esme mouthed. _I know. I'm sorry, _Alice replied. Esme smiled and shook her head. All forgiven so easily; it was Esme's way. Alice crept lightly down the large staircase, her hand caressing the cherry oak rail as if it were a long-lost friend. Her ears pricked up, catching the sound of Jasper's voice in the backyard, and she approached slowly, listening more intently.

"... I should go check on her."

Rosalie's voice piped up, "She needs a few mnutes, Jasper. Goodness, she's not about to break."

"You haven't seen her."

"Jasper, Rose says she needs a sec, she needs one. We shouldn't crowd the girl," Emmett added, supporting Rosalie as always.

"I just want to see her... Alice?"

The group spun to face a more famliar Alice, whose shy smile was apology enough for any trouble her mood had caused. Jasper's eyes widened, a brief hesitation freezing him to the earth. Alice seized her chance and leapt into his arms, causing Emmett to groan in protest. Rosalie slapped his arm, ordering him to hush as Alice kissed Jasper passionately, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his sturdy frame. Jasper spun her around in circles, eliciting giggled protests from Alice.

"No, no, put me down! Fragile! Hey!"

Jasper smiled, "I can't help myself; you haven't smiled in weeks. I need to catch up."

Alice smacked at his chest playfully, "I mean it! Spin me one more time and I mope!"

Jasper took this threat seriously, not wanting to risk weeks of Alice withdrawn and silent. Setting her down gently, he drew her to him, burying her face in his leather jacket and navy blue turtleneck. She sighed, clinging to him like a creeping vine, refusing to let go. He bent forward, kissing her head, his body releasing weeks of tension in one contented sigh.

"It seems we've been left alone," Jasper noted quietly as Emmett and Rosalie's departure dawned on him.

"I expected as much. Rosalie wants private time, and apparently you've not allowed them any."

"I was worried," Jasper said, obviously unapologetic, "What did she say? What didn't _I_ say? Alice -"

"Shh! You did nothing wrong," Alice interrupted, "Jazz, you did everything right. It was up to me."

"I felt like I was dying. You were here, but you weren't..."

Alice's face fell, the impact on Jasper her little withdrawl had made coming into crystal clarity, "Jazz, I'm so sorry... I just... I needed to avoid it. At first, I was hoping it would help me remember something from before... But it became this way of escaping the mess... I've hurt you. I hate that."

Alice tried to pull away, suddenly ashamed at her actions, not only her mental state after discovering her awakening point, but her refusal to allow Jasper to help her with her search. He'd spent most of the last five months in confusion, watching her slowly disintegrate into this dark hole, this oubliette in her mind. He'd never shut her down in such a dramatic fashion, even at his worst. This wasn't their way. They'd always handled the world and its dangers together. Jasper, however, held on tighter, determined to keep her against him, as if he feared she'd disappear if given half a chance at escape.

"You don't owe me any apologies. But I do want a promise from you, please."

Alice turned her head up, shaking her spiky locks from her eyes, "Yes?"

Jasper stared her down, his onyx pools matching her own, "If you're going to keep at this mission, keep digging this way... You're taking me with you. Every step of the way. I'll sit quietly. I'll wait in cars, if need be. But I'm coming with you. I don't want to have to run hours to find you... find you like..."

Alice reached out to touch his face, caressing his cheek softly, "I... I don't think I can go further without you at my side. I promise, Jazz."

Jasper kissed her deeply, nearly knocking her to the ground with his ferocity, and Alice felt herself melt, felt more like _Alice_ again. She strained onto her toes, wanting to grab his hair, pull him against her, kiss him in a way that not needing breath allowed for, much to her delight. Intuitively, his hands slipped beneath her arms, lifting her almost above him, never breaking away. _He is my fairytale... My happily ever after_. It was he who broke away first, but only just. Planting her delicately upon the earth, he took her hand, leading her out into the forest in search of long overdue sustenance.

"So you tired of the story, then?" Jasper joked quietly.

"I already know how it ends," Alice replied, slyly, leaning into him as she walked.

"I have to know what Rose of all people said to get you out of bed."

Alice pondered this for a moment, answering carefully, "She reminded me of who I am, and how that matters more than who I was."

"And who are you?" Jasper asked, curious.

"I'm the one who will love you forever, that's who."

Jasper said nothing at first, merely smiling. Alice found this odd; Jasper was a smart ass, through and through. She waited for it... Waited... And there it was: the reply.

"Just checking," he said, winking.

Alice groaned, slapping his arm, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me?"

"I do love you."

"I love you, Alice, so much. Every time I feel I understand the depths of it, something helps me understand it runs deeper still."

Alice smiled, then thought a moment, "After we dine on the fine fare Ithaca has to offer, would you help me get started?"

Jasper looked puzzled, "Started on what?"

"Finding the asylum. It must be in Mississippi somewhere, I suppose, or near the river at least. It's a place to start..." Alice's voice trailed off as Jasper looked away, almost sheepishly, "What?"

Jasper avoided her eyes, "I... Kinda started looking already."

Alice froze in place, "What?"

"I had Carlisle help me research... In case you took off without me... I was so frightened for you, Alice. I thought you'd suddenly snap alert and run off again. We've narrowed it down to a few places in the state. I'm still sorting through death records, but I found one that stuck out for me..."

"Well?" Alice asked impatiently.

Jasper sighed, "There was a death notice for a girl, thirteen years old, in Biloxi in 1913. The age is wrong, but... Well, a lot of families explained away the family crazies as being dead..."

"What was her name?" Alice asked nervously.

"Alice, maybe we should hunt first -"

"I'm okay, Jazz. I promise you. The name?"

Jasper hesitated, then spat it out quickly, "Mary Alice Brandon. Born and died in Biloxi... I'm not sure, and there's a lot of records to go through still, but..."

Alice nodded thoughtfully, "They declared me dead. No wonder no one missed me."

Jasper frowned, "I shouldn't have told you. I'm so stupid sometimes!"

Alice shook her head, "No, no. You can show me when we're done hunting. Thank you... I'm touched you went to the trouble of digging that far for me when you were so against this."

"It meant a lot to you, and like I said, if you were going to disappear, I wanted to know where."

Alice brought his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. Jasper smiled, tousling her hair, putting his arm around her and forcing her forward, her thirst still worrisome for him. Alice went willingly, her mind whirling with the possibility of knowing her full true name. _Died in 1913... Which means I was there for seven years... Forgotten..._

"What are you thinking?" Jasper asked quietly.

Alice smiled, "I'm realizing that whatever my human family may have done, it doesn't matter. My family now is a loving, strong one, and I could not be more fortunate than I am. I have you. I have them. I have all I need here."

"That makes two of us," Jasper murmured, his lips sinking to her collarbone, making Alice forget all else.


	15. Chapter 13: The Walrus and The Carpenter

_Jackson, MS, Dec 27, 1919_

The tall man with the auburn locks moved swiftly through the hallways of the disturbed ward, nodding to the on duty nurses and smiling gently. Each smiled back at him in turn, thankful for the drastic reduction in troubles with the solitary patients since his arrival one year prior. The pale older gentleman did not socialize much, but he had a gift for keeping order with patients long thought hopeless. Several of the staff, the ones around since the arrival of Mary Brandon, were particularly grateful they no longer had to fear her sinister proclamations of impending deaths and disasters. If she now shared them with Orderly Leroux, he spoke nothing of them. Perhaps he dismissed them, paid them no mind. _Or perhaps_, one older nurse whispered to Head Nurse LeCroix, _none of them were about his life yet_. Whatever allowed Leroux the patience to keep Mary, Delia, Willard and the other solitaries relatively happy and content between the new doctor's electrical shock therapies, it made their lives easier, which was ultimately their only concern.

The shocks themselves were part of that agenda. Seizure induction as a means of therapy was an old technique dating back nearly 300 years according to Doctor Wertz, but had been overlooked in modern psychiatric treatment. He'd placed several of the more delusional or disturbed patients on weekly regimens in 1917, using camphor to chemically induce a seizure. Dr. Wertz indicated it was a means of wiping the slate clean of emotional and mental debris and beginning anew. Over the last year, Dr. Wertz had begun experimenting with tiny electrodes and electrical current directed straight into the brain instead, arguing that it was more cost-effective and tended to produce longer results. The head of the hospital had instructed him to continue this work discreetly, using the solitaries only until more data were available, not wanting to halt what might be groundbreaking (and therefore profitable) work outright, but not wishing to chance lawsuits. Thus far, the only side effects appeared to be memory disturbances or confusion, ranging from a few days of disorientation to permanent memory loss.

It was the memory loss issue that kept Alistair Leroux at odds with Dr. Wertz. He'd first noticed it six months ago, when Mary had been unable to identify any of the staff by name, or give her correct name and age. Over time, Mary had begun to lose memories from her childhood, confounding her psychonalyst and leading to him dismissing her as a lost cause, destined to be a 'lifelong patient of the facility'. Alistair was saddened to witness this deterioration, fearing Mary would someday lose her ability to recall even him. Even now, she often confused his name with 'White Rabbit'; Alistair reasoned she'd associated him so strongly with their book that the character names were blurring over the names of those in her reality. She often called herself Alice now, which he obligingly used exclusively in her presence now. Her short-term memory seemed to haze over for a day or two after a shock treatment, but returned slowly thereafter.

Turning the key in the lock to the basement cells, Alistair hurried down to check his favourite patient. A glance through the small barred window in the cell door indicated his Alice was awake but lying upon the mattress, tugging absently on her short strands of hair. He knocked, as was his custom, and entered, securing the door behind him. Her blue eyes lit up at the sight of him, but she did not rise as usual. The other day's shocks had hit her hard, he supposed. Fatigue was an effect he'd noticed in several patients.

"Well hello Alice! And how are things with you?"

Alice winked, "Very sleepy, and very stupid. And all without the hot sun!"

Alistair smiled, "Very clever, my dear. How's your memory today?"

Alice frowned, "I keep confusing which nurse is which. It's peculiar; I see them and know them, but their names are all a scrambled mess. I don't much care for the new seizures. The old ones didn't make such a mess of things. It's like... Like a toddler dumped her pram out all over my thoughts, and I have all these dolls and puzzles where names should be."

Alistair nodded, "I know, Alice. I'm not very fond of them either. Anything else I should know about?"

Alice nodded, "Mr. Jeffers is going to be eaten today if someone doesn't mind him. There's a wild animal about. Red eyes. Very thirsty for him. That orderly won't mind him well."

Alistair's own eyes widened in alarm. _I've been doing so well. An animal with red eyes? Orderly? What...? How...? Is this what they mean when they say she spooks them?_ Alistair's thoughts began to spin and blur, until Alice laughed lightly, shaking her head.

"Oh no, White Rabbit. Not you. The young one. The Carpenter. All he thinks of is bread and butter and in the tummy. You try to be gentle. I told you; when it's time, you won't mean it. But this other one... He's a tricky sort. He hides in plain sight. He frightens me."

Alistair paused, mulling over her words, "Are you saying there is someone else lurking about, who's going to harm Mr. Jeffers?"

Alice's eyes drooped, "He's coming for him now... Mind him, young orderly. The game's afoot and it won't be long now. Poor dear's wife will be very cross with the hospital..."

"Would you excuse me Alice?" Alistair asked, courtesy really, for she held no power in this dank place.

"I shall dream of tea parties... So... sleepy... A dormouse..." Alice shut her eyes, her words becoming faint garbled murmurs.

Alistair secured her room and took the stairs three at a time, tossing open the door to the main hospital wings. Mr. Jeffers was a patient who suffered from dementia. He often wandered off, unsure of his own name, leaving the staff to play hide and seek while he often stood somewhere in the outside courtyard, trying to remember where he was intending to go next. It would be very easy for one of his kind to pick him off if an unattentive orderly were minding him. Too easy. And while once Alistair had engaged this job to determine the ease with which he might feed on forgotten souls, he'd come to care a great deal about their welfare in the last year, his Alice in particular. Already, he'd decided that he was going to take Alice away from this hellish place, and have the daughter he'd never had; it was simply a matter of when and how. An acquaintance of his would prove vital to his desire to have a companion - a family - for the many years to come. His hesitation stemmed from wanting to be certain that he was able to make such a dramatic decision for her.

But first things first: Mr. Jeffers and his mystery assailant, perhaps of his kind, awaited his intervention...

The old man was clearly lost. His tufts of grey hair sticking out the sides of his head only added to the befuddled look, eliciting a near-silent chuckle from his captive audience. About twenty feet away, give or take, a young male in white shirt and pants was oblivious to how far his charge had wandered, instead monitoring a bickering match between two nurses across the courtyard. Twilight was settling over them, masking the watcher from their view. Once again, he had timed this with perfection.

Hunting the human in this state of undeath was not unlike hunting them in life, the rather plain, albeit pale, man mused inwardly. In war, one bided his time, gathering information, determining the holes in the defense walls. It was then, when the timing suited the squadron, that the holes were exploited, with as much carnage as possible. Hunting now was no different in terms of strategy; only the team formations and goals differed. Now, he was in it for himself, not his country. And now, he had his keen senses, amplified far beyond human levels, and nothing but time to thrill in a good hunt.

The old man took a few steps closer to where the young man crouched, concealed, smirking at his good fortune. Rising slowly, he gestured for the man to follow him. His green eyes widened in further confusion, perhaps wondering why a soldier was calling out to him this way. The uniform was an amusement added to this hunt, and a clever choice of disguise; he knew better than anyone that all men generally blur into one while dressed in uniform. Witnesses, if there were any, would be at a loss. His ruby eyes flashed with the satisfaction of success as the man stepped closer still - only to be cut off far too quickly by another male, an older one, in similar hospital garb. The commotion raised by the old loon, who pointed in the direction where moments ago he'd hidden,brought forth the inattentive orderly, who quickly ushered him back inside, using more force than truly necessary for a frail, withering creature.

A new hunt would have to begin. His thirst was not great, but it beckoned for satisfaction. His plans, however, were interrupted by the appearance of the older gentleman behind him. His towering stature did not catch his gaze for long, though he assumed most humans would note it immediately. What caught his attention was the peculiar violet shade of his eyes and his remarkably pale skin_. One of us? He works for them? How... amusing_...

"May I help you?" Tall Orderly asked him, a very sinister undertone to his words.

"Found myself a bit turned around on my way into Jackson proper," he lied effortlessly, "Care to point me in the right direction?"

"Save the stories for the less suspicious. You're one of mine. You were hunting."

All pretenses dropped, the Hunter chuckled, "Can hardly blame a man for trying for an easy snack. You have to admit; it's like a flock of baby sheep around here. One lost barely causes a ripple. Things happen with the ol' crazies. Please, reassure me on something, would you? You do work here for access to tasty morsels, do you not? And if so, I understand if you feel, hmm, how should I say... territorial?"

The Tall Man frowned, a low growl escaping his lips, "I am very territorial, as you put it. You'd do well to steer clear of these grounds. I won't have trouble here."

The young soldier nodded, his mind quickly at work determining the best means of conveying false reassurances to this kindred one. Of course, he would continue to hunt whatever struck his fancy, easy pickings or otherwise. But why make enemies when one could make false friends?

"Very well then. No harm done. I tire of the challenging hunts at times. Hospitals are one of my usual easy targets. But let me extend a promise that I will not be hunting every patient who wanders loose."

From the front doors of the hospital, a surly voice called out: "Leroux? Are you out here still?"

The Tall Man responded, "Yes, sir?"

The voice bellowed, "I need your assistance with Brandon. Please meet me downstairs."

"Very well sir," the Tall Vampire replied, returning his harsh gaze to the young vampire before him.

An evil winking thought came spinning through his mind, and he could not help but toy with this servant vampire. It certainly would not buy his friendship, but he was under no illusions that the Tall Man Leroux would accept. No, he'd have a little fun with him while he could, he decided.

"Brandon? Who, praytell, is that? Another bumbling man, wandering about the begonias?"

"No. She is a patient of mine."

"Of yours? A doctor as well as a wrangler. How fascinating, Mr. Leroux."

Leroux's anger grew, crossing his entire face, setting his features into stone, "She is mine. And you are leaving, Mister..."

"Call me James," the plain man answered, "Titles are far too stuffy for me. Brandon... I'll have to pay her a visit sometime. Yes..."

James suddenly found himself slammed into the trunk of a very large weeping willow, caught between laughing at Leroux's possessive tough guy act and genuine astonishment at his attachment to this mystery human. How utterly odd to become so enamoured with one's meals! Did he not understand the rules of being a vampire? Humans were merely cattle to them, a means of survival. But this show of force spoke of a different sort of bond...

"You WILL stay away from this place. I can smell the newborn on you. You may think you are strong. You may find yourself clever in your own little world. But I have outlived you by centuries, and I will always be three steps ahead. Now, GO," he snarled, his large arm across James' throat.

James feigned fear, his mind already hard at work, "Alright, alright... I was only pulling your leg, old one. I won't return anytime soon..."

Leroux shoved him back ten feet, brushed his uniform free of a few fallen leaves, then sauntered back towards the main building, his forced slowness obvious to one of his own. He hesitated briefly at the doors, then slipped inside, off to assist this 'Brandon' individual who was, James surmised, his reason for remaining a servant to those he could so easily slay.

Already he'd begun planning the best way to learn who this patient was, what condition their mind was in, and how best to capture this obviously prized pet. Oh, what a game it would be... Cat and mouse. Hide and seek. He would seek while the ridiculous old man hid his treasure.

"Let the games begin," he murmured, slinking away.

Alistair fought the urge to seize his Alice and escape immediately into the night, dragging her along until he found Carlisle. He was far stronger at resisting human blood now, but even he did not trust that once the blood began to flow, he would be able to demonstrate the same restraint. It was far safer to make such a request to Carlisle; at the very least, he would help him determine the best way to change the tiny girl. He had read it in his eyes: the Hunter was choosing her as his next mark. There would be no dissuading him now, no evading him in the end. As much as he longed to leave Alice the human girl she was, he knew her safest state of being in the long run would be as one of them. But how to find Carlisle Cullen?

Nurse LeCroix sent him down to fetch Alice for her bath, as the female nurses didn't trust themselves to be able to handle her. In spite of her size, she'd frequently thrown violent fits of protest that sent women twice her size to their backs. She did this, she told Alistair once, to remind them to respect her as a human, instead of dragging her about as if she were a dog. When Alistair unlocked her cell and prepared her for moving down the hall, she did not resist in any fashion. She did, however, tug his shirt gently, beckoning for him to stoop over closer to her pale ruby lips.

"Yes, Alice?"

"He's coming, isn't he?"

"Who?"

"The one who wanted Jeffers. He'll come. Cheshire Cat, he is. Comes and goes. Nothing but a grin. A grin without a face," Alice whispered, fear in her wide eyes.

Alistair nodded, "He will come. Do you know when?"

Alice shook her head, "It comes in dreams. I may know tomorrow."

"Very well, Alice. I will protect you. I swear it."

"Oh, no. You'll kill me. But you must." Her tone was cavalier, as if she'd announced her choice in meal.

"Alice, why -?"

"It's a game, you see. Walrus and the Carpenter. And here," she said, gesturing about the halls as they walked, "Is an oyster bed. Rich little pearls, we are. But the Walrus was thoughtful in his death. The Carpenter thought only of his belly. In the end, however, each consumed oysters. There's no way around it."

Alistair handed her off to the waiting nurse, her face contorted, attempting to follow the tail end of the conversation he'd had with the patient in the plain white cotton gown. Giving up rather quickly, she thanked the orderly for his help and requested he return in twenty minutes. He nodded to them both and slipped downstairs, working to deliver the food to the other solitaries, his mind searching for the Hunter named James.

_He will attempt to learn her full name. He's likely killing some hapless town local right now._ Alistair could see him, see his teeth as they sunk into the rosy flesh of a drunk leaving a bar. He could see the way the body broke and crumpled into an alley passage. This newborn would not be brazen enough to go on a spree, but he would strike fear into hearts with a few publicly-displayed corpses here and there. He was clever, most likely a tracker. He did not have much time. A month or two at best before he made his move. A month or two to decide, once and for all, whether to keep his Alice forever. A month or two to plan their escape.

He needed to see Dr. Wertz. As much as he loathed the damage done by his experiments, he saw in them a sort of hope, a silver lining in a very dark cloud. Alice had become so mellow, so much less melancholy, as her memories of her childhood eroded. If he were to change her after a treatment, would she emerge a fresh new vampire, her thoughts a clean slate to shape into a happy creature? Could he undo the harm done by cruel, misunderstanding people and years of darkness? Somehow, he would extract this knowledge from the doctor, and learn his techniques in case it proved a fruitful notion.

_Tabula Rasa._ A new start for a new life. It seemed fitting, somehow. The thought made Alistair smile.


	16. Chapter 14: Alice's Evidence

_Denali Borough, AK, present day _

Edward stalked the large bear slowly, savouring the moment, taking his time in his task at hand. Distractions were proving fewer and farther in between these days and hunting remained one of the few tasks where he could dismiss all heartache and worry and zero in on a single purpose: the kill. The bear seemed oblivious, an older male that had sauntered away from the main crowd. It was not quite past its prime, but it was certainly well on its way, which made the killing seem less cruel in Edward's strange logic. Better to leave the young ones, especially when he was killing not due to thirst, but merely as a means of killing the excruciating hole in his chest that seemed to grow by the hour. The hole where Bella had once completed him...

_Damn it. I'm not supposed to be thinking about her. Focus. _

A quick glance at his watch revealed that he'd gone 37 minutes and 12 seconds without thinking of his love, the shy dark-haired beauty with the pale porcelain face that flushed so readily for him in the past. He'd managed 93 more seconds than the last time. Even the hunt wasn't enough now. It merely reminded him of her smile as she'd told him to 'bag one for her'. How utterly odd she was for a human! None of it disturbed her! How could she not be disturbed by what he was? Perhaps he should have let her watch a hunt, if only to demonstrate to her just how lethal, how dangerous he could be.

A lyrical, familiar voice entered his mind, her thoughts foreshadowing her imminent arrival: _Hunting again, Edward? Seems like only ten hours ago, we were out here pouncing those bucks._

Edward frowned. Tanya was following him again. He'd taken this detour to Denali to hunt, regroup and speak with Laurent about Victoria and James, only to find Laurent missing, with Irina unable to provide any insight beyond his stating he needed to roam about. His instincts suggested that perhaps Laurent had grown tired of their vegetarian lifestyle, but it was obvious Irina had taken to him, and he respectfully held his tongue for her sake. Tanya, knowing of the Cullens' departure from Forks and vague reasons behind it, had immediately set to work in earnest, attempting to persuade Edward to seek his solace in her company, carefully padding her actions in the guise of friendship. Her thoughts spoke otherwise, despite her best efforts to conceal them. Glancing backwards, a flash of her strawberry-blonde hair moved between the trees one mile away. Not wanting to lose his prey. Edward returned his gaze to the bear, which remained oblivious to its peril. Almost lazily, he sprung, a quick motion to the back of the head leaving him stunned as his teeth sank deep into its jugular, the vampire venom quickly going to work.

"Is there enough for two to dine?" Tanya asked, a wry smile upon her heart-shaped mouth.

"I'm willing to share," Edward replied, drinking deep, forcing himself to remain in the moment.

Tanya nearly purred, "Excellent."

She joined him beside the now helpless creature, her emerald green velvet dress remarkably out of place in the woods but very typical of Tanya on the prowl. Her lips met the other side of the neck, and she drank slowly, her tongue flicking across her lips in a gesture that Edward was certain countless men had fallen prey to over the decades. It did nothing but remind him of Bella and how soft her lips were, how he loved to run his thumb over them as she slept, feeling the exhalations of air from her nose as her chest rose and fell. There was eloquence to the way she breathed, a ballet of the body, a grace her limbs did not possess as she tripped over everything in her path including her own feet. Edward sighed; the longing grew worse by the day. Perhaps he should return, just to be sure Victoria was far away. He doubted she was so vindictive at all; tracking Victoria had been an obsession to bide away the endless hours at the start. But what if she were? Bella was hardly able to defend herself from a football. Maybe...

_No. You've done enough. The moment you set foot in Forks, her bad luck will multiply to incredible extremes. You don't deserve to see her face, to gaze into those eyes, not now or ever again. _

"Edward?" Tanya asked quietly.

"I'm sorry Tanya. What is it?"

"Edward, have you truly looked at yourself lately? You're an absolute wreck. Kate is worried sick, you know. She thinks of you as a nephew, in her own way. What happened to you in Forks to create this... this _shell_ of what you were?"

Edward discarded the bear carcass, heading back towards his impromptu camp within the range, his fists clenching in frustration. Did Tanya truly need to ask why leaving the only woman he had ever loved had destroyed him? Was his passion for Bella not obvious to everyone he met? He heard Tanya behind him, protesting, asking him to wait. He slowed his pace slightly, but kept moving forward. It was time to resume his search, with or without speaking to Laurent.

"Edward, I know you were very fond of this human girl, but surely you knew that if you were not willing to keep her forever that things would not work?" Tanya asked, her tone soft.

"More than fond, Tanya. She is my life. I gave it up for her sake."

"Then why not keep her as one of us? Surely, if you felt that strongly, Carlisle would help you?"

Edward heard the silent second question in her words. Tanya believed he did not want Bella changed because he did not know that he'd want her forever. It was her hope that this was so. Tanya had not forgotten the sting of his rejections, nor had her affection for him waned, despite his best apologies and assurances that he wished only to be friends.

"This life... Bella deserves better than our existence. I want more for her. A thousand years would not be enough time for me to be at her side, Tanya. But I cannot strip her of her soul, of all the things she can never do as a vampire. I have seen what it's done to Rosalie. I will not see that pain on her face."

Tanya nodded, silently mulling his words before speaking again, "Then what will you do now? Will you pine eternally? Will you curse the heavens for their cruelty and waste each day in anguish? If you will not allow yourself to be with her, then you must allow yourself to move on, just as I am sure you asked her to do. Abandoning your family to chase a possibly vengeful vampire who may or may not consider harming someone you won't be with and isolating them all is only multiplying everyone's anguish. It's a pity party that has gone on far too long. Alice misses you fiercely."

Edward froze, turning to face Tanya, "Alice? When did you speak with Alice?"

"This morning. Apparently she, too, is looking for Laurent. She's taking a trip down south tomorrow with Jasper. She asked for you while you were off roaming about; it disappointed her greatly to not speak with you."

Edward smiled in relief, "Esme had said she seemed back to her old self but I was wondering if she'd been trying to ease my guilt over her collapse in Mississippi. I should speak with her. Thank you, Tanya, for letting me know. It's one less thing to feel guilty for."

Tanya chuckled, "Edward, you blame yourself for all the wrong in the world if given half a minute to concoct a reason why. I don't mean to anger you with my questions; I hope you understand that I care for you, and I worry when you're not yourself."

Edward nodded, "I do understand that, Tanya. I should be on my way back south. That double murder in San Diego seemed very reminiscent of the scene Alice and I found near the Ohio border. Please give my regards to the family?"

Tanya smiled warmly, "Of course. Your family is due here in a couple of weeks, Edward. I would suggest you join them then, for their sake, if you can."

Edward embraced Tanya quickly, keeping it as cordial and friendly as possible, forcefully blocking himself from overhearing her thoughts. He did not need to know what else lay within her mind, what memories she might have of speaking with Alice or the hopeful stirrings even a hug could produce in her head. What mattered at the moment was speaking with Alice and hitting the highways to San Diego as expediently as possible. His incredible speed carried him to his makeshift home beside the mountain in minutes, his few books and coat gathered easily before sprinting towards the Volvo. The sun had set long ago, offering safe cover for the beginning of his journey south. Throwing the car into gear and heading out onto the nearly deserted road, he reached for the cell phone in his glove box, flipping it open to find seven missed calls, all from the Cullen residence. He pressed the speed dial for Alice's cell, wanting to avoid Esme's subtle lecture for now. When she answered, the connection was incredibly static-filled.

"I've been waiting for you to call."

"I'm sorry; I was hunting. Tanya just gave me your message."

Alice's voice was tinged with hurt, "I figured if you wouldn't respond to a voicemail, I'd send a messenger instead."

"I'm sorry, Alice. I haven't checked the phone in days. You're feeling better?"

"Yeah... I think so. Everything is still rather upside down, but there's a sense in it somewhere."

Edward pressed the gas pedal impatiently, taking the car even further over the limit, "Method in the madness?"

Alice chuckled, "Literally. Jasper did a lot of leg work for me, and my own studying at the library and online has narrowed things down considerably. We've found five missing persons who seem to match up in the state between 1913 and 1920, and we've narrowed it down to a few asylums now. We're just changing planes in Chicago right now, actually. We're taking a red-eye to Jackson."

Edward smiled, "That's good news, Alice. I'm glad you're taking him with you this time."

"It wasn't exactly optional," she laughed, "But I'm very glad as well. Where are you Edward?"

"Leaving Denali for San Diego at the moment."

"You heard about the killings too? I wanted to mention them to you. I saw a very weak flash of her near the border, Edward. I think she may be heading into Mexico. But do be careful; Jasper says the natives are restless, if you follow my meaning. Don't tread on any toes. In fact, maybe you should call Emmett -"

"No, no. I... I need some time right now."

A long pause was his response at first, before Alice quietly spoke, barely audible through the static and background noise, "Esme's heartbroken, Edward. Please try to join us in Denali. Please?"

Edward tightened his grip on the steering wheel, picturing his mother's face, "I'll try... Be safe, Alice."

"You too. Gotta jet, Edward. Call Esme." Her last statement was a command, not a suggestion.

"I will. Say hello to Jasper. Bye, Alice."

Edward shut the phone, tossing it into the passenger seat a little harder than necessary. He flipped the stereo on, cranking the volume until the only sounds were the melancholy words and music of Neverending White Lights. The CD was a gift from Alice, one she'd left for him as the Cullens had departed Forks, leaving Edward to say his final goodbyes to Bella. On it, Alice had placed a tiny post-it, with the words _you'll need this_ scribbled on it in purple ink. She had, as always, been right.

_"Angels say they can make you suffer  
__They give and take like a vicious lover__  
__When all this loses meaning, you'll never want it back somehow__  
__Awake but still I'm dreaming__  
__And never waking up__  
__You're not coming back for me; these things, they will never be__  
__I'm so used to being wrong__  
__So put me where I belong..."_

This song was his favourite on the entire disc, and he sang along, the scenery blurring as he drew closer to the border. No matter how much it hurt him, it was worth Bella's happiness. He was a monster, despite his best intentions. This endless suffering was a hell on earth, but it was where he belonged. It was time he embraced it.

"Edward?" Jasper asked, already knowing the answer.

"Finally. He's still not coming home. I don't see him joining the family in Denali, either," Alice noted sadly, adjusting the carry-on upon her shoulder as they walked towards their connection in Chicago O'Hare's maze of gates.

"He needs time to work on his mind. He'll be okay."

Alice shook her head, "He's imposing some special brand of earthly hell upon himself. It's pure emotional masochism. If I weren't guilty of it in my own way, I'd have to kick his ass on principle."

Jasper chuckled, his arm around her shoulders as he led the way towards their gate, "He's twice your size, love."

"The bigger they are, the harder I laugh when I wipe the floor with them."

"Temper, temper. Focus, Alice. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and it all might turn up nothing of use."

Alice's face hardened, "Of course we'll find something, Jazz. We've come too far now. I feel it. I cannot see myself finding it, but it may be because there's some decision ahead that affects the outcome. But I do feel, somehow, that we'll find the asylum at least. It's something more than we have. And your suspicions about my identity feel _right_ to me. I can't describe it."

Jasper paused before their gate, turning to kiss her lightly upon her lips, "I have faith in you, Alice. If you believe it, I believe it too."

Alice smiled, her steps lighter as she danced her way to the counter, displaying her passport and boarding pass to the attendant waiting, who waved her through, Jasper on her heels. The small jet was only half full, passengers scattered throughout the cabin. The helpful woman greeting them on board encouraged them to move seats for more room, as the flight was under booked, and they settled on the back row, farthest from all others. Flipping open her laptop, Alice called up several Adobe documents and newspaper scans, turning the screen slightly for Jasper's benefit.

"Alright, then. From our research, it seems most likely that I was in the Mississippi State Insane Hospital, now the Mississippi State Hospital. It was the biggest, and it suffered a wave of patient disappearances between 1918 and 1921. I have an appointment booked there first thing in the morning, posing as a woman tracing her family tree. They bought it rather easily, just as Carlisle suggested they would. Bless his connections for keeping the call warm and friendly. From the missing person reports, there were five younger females, ranging in age from 17 to 26, that disappeared in that time, with three of them in the stretch of late December 1919 to November 1920. One of them is listed only as a Jane Smith, which reeks of false name to me."

"And you suspect that one was Mary Alice Brandon?" Jasper interjected, scanning the clipping of her death notice that Alice had now pulled up.

"Yes. If my family had passed me off as dead, they wouldn't report seven years later that I was actually alive, crazy and wandering away from an asylum to my likely death. It makes some sense, at least. I have the birth notice as well for Mary, and I can compare that birthday to any medical files, if they still exist. Being as it's been so long, I may not have any luck there, unfortunately. The alternative would be locating a photo of Mary and possibly the parents, to determine similarity in appearance."

"But that's hardly foolproof, Alice," Jasper cautioned, "Especially if the photo is from the age of 13."

Alice sighed, "I know. But if I were able to find photos of all of these women..."

Jasper said nothing, a silent understanding passing between them. Alice turned to the stories she'd scanned from the digital microfiche files she'd found online with assistance from the Cornell librarians, reading over the series of articles on the missing asylum patients. The fasten seatbelt announcement flashed overhead, and Alice ignored it, completely engrossed in her research. Jasper fastened her belt for her, kissing her neck gently as she read, the act acknowledged by a slight smile as she tabbed through the pages anxiously. The airline attendant passed by, securing overhead bins, and requested Alice stow the laptop for take-off, which she did begrudgingly, tucking it back into her carry-on alongside her book, which she'd brought as a sort of talisman for luck. Jasper winced when he saw her pack it, perhaps afraid she'd disappear once more into its pages like a rabbit down a hole, one he could not follow her into. Her hand reached for his, squeezing it tightly, and he leaned towards her, her head fitting naturally into the span of his neck, as if their bodies had been made to interlock, a puzzle of flesh and bone. The take-off was smooth, for which Alice was grateful. Alice detested flying for reasons she could never quite understand particularly since a plane crash was hardly about to kill her. All the same, the dimming of the 'Fasten Seatbelt' message sent waves of relief through her - or was it Jasper? It didn't matter either way; it was opportunity to return to her research. Flipping open the lid of the computer once more, she returned to a set of notes she'd typed into a text document about asylums in Mississippi.

"Jazz? The Brandon girl was from Biloxi, right?"

"Hmm... Yes, Biloxi. Supposedly she died there as well, of tuberculosis if I do recall it right."

Alice's eyes widened, "There was a little hospital in Biloxi, this place that began as a charity hostel for the poor in a woman's home and grew to be a twenty-bed mental health facility, that then later evolved into a nursing home and hospital around 1920. Do you think it's possible that she was admitted there first?"

"I suppose anything is possible, really. But would a small place like that be suitable for someone so ill, her parents told the world she was dead?"

Alice considered this for a moment, scanning down her notes, "They might, if the Methodist influence on the hospital was a factor. Perhaps they sent her there for religious reasons. You know, cleansing out the evil spirits with prayer and care?"

Jasper gestured for the computer, taking it onto his lap, clicking through the folder of notes he'd saved, "Wait... Wait... THERE. Alice, look at the end of this death notice."

Alice's eyes widened in surprise, "The service was at a Methodist church. The Brandons were Methodists."

"It would make a lot of sense. And from a religious slant, visions of the future would seem impossible to cure without God's aid. And if God didn't seem to be coming..."

"You'd write that person off as a lost cause," Alice completed sadly, "I really think we found the right girl, Jazz. Or rather, you did."

Jasper nodded, "It's definitely a strong start. And if we're wrong, we have four more possibilities. Now, I know you're anxious, but perhaps you should set things aside until our meeting tomorrow at the hospital? You need to keep a calm mind."

Alice hesitated, and then shut the computer down at the sight of Jasper's worried eyes_. You must be understanding, Alice. You scared him as close to death as our kind can be, barring dismemberment and flames_. Unbuckling her belt, she sprawled across his lap, her legs lounging across the empty seat beside her. Jasper's hand found its way into her hair, twirling the short locks into wild curls, gently twisting the butterfly bobby pins holding the front pieces back, humming a simple melody she did not recognize. She closed her eyes, searching out Edward, worried about his increasingly frequent periods of complete isolation. Whereas before he'd always phoned in to say hello, he was now dodging calls as well. It reminded her all too much of her own descent into a mental prison. She'd had her family to watch over her, to care for her when she was unable to do so. Edward was alone and broken. Apparently, he was heading into Mexico in the near future as well; her mind brought forth a glimpse of Tijuana, apparently a sign that Edward was going to take Jasper's suggestion and continue south. She then sought out Esme, curious to see if Edward had called her to reassure her. That yielded an image of Esme talking to Emmett, asking him to track Edward down_. Damn it Edward_.

A strange calm surged through her body, and she realized that her frustration and worry had begun to be apparent on her easily read face. Jasper was hard at work, the humming slightly louder now. Alice surrendered to it, willing her mind into a meditative state, something she'd practiced for ten years, much to Emmett's amusement. Rosalie, however, had considered learning the skill once Alice likened it to being the closest their kind could achieve to sleep; however, her lack of patience had quickly killed that idea. Alice enjoyed slipping into a thoughtless calm; it gave her mind a chance to rest, allowing the visions to be clearer and less draining upon her. Minutes became hours, time seeming to stand still until Jasper gently touched her eyes, startling her from her reverie, as the pilot announced their pending landing. Groaning, Alice buckled herself in and held on tight once more to Jasper's hand, cursing flying and its necessity the entire way down.

They'd opted to stay at a hotel near the airport, in case the weather forecast had proven wrong and the day was too sunny to proceed with their plans. Alice was happy, however, that deep grey clouds, pregnant with snow, hung overhead, casting a pallor over the entire area. She'd waited so long already for her answers; she wanted them now. Jasper negotiated their way through the terminal, leading them towards the courtesy shuttles with deft ease. His height was a tremendous advantage; Alice could scarcely see in front of her in crowds, let alone find overhead signs marking terminal destinations. The shuttle was preparing to depart as Jasper jogged outside, waving it down for them. The white-haired driver tipped his hat at Alice, causing her to giggle involuntarily.

"And you ask me if you're beautiful sometimes," Jasper whispered, "I do believe he's interested in you."

"Oh stop!" Alice protested, laughing.

Their hotel was a six minute ride away, which left them with two hours after check-in to head for the rental agency and procure a car for the short drive to the mental hospital. Jasper took care of the arrangements solo while she remained in the hotel room, refreshing herself on her cover story and notes on the hospitals and Mary Alice Brandon. It was over 80 years since the events that interested her, which meant the staff would likely not know of the specifics offhand. But surely someone would know of whether or not a 'Jane Smith' could be a patient whose family had abandoned her, and where one might locate the small hospital in Biloxi. Hopefully, they would also tell her that old patient files were somewhere in the building, somewhere a clever and speedy vampire could enter and exit quickly, with information that would not be missed.

The door to the room swung open, with Jasper entering, dressed in black dress pants and a dark grey turtleneck, dangling a set of keys. Alice glanced at the clock beside her: five minutes to eight. Their appointment was set for nine sharp. Grabbing her black suede coat and tossing it over her ice blue wool dress, she picked up her notebook and the driving directions to the hospital and joined Jasper, pulling their door shut tightly behind her. Her hands tapped and fumbled with the book as he led the way to the black sports car waiting out front, the tinted windows they'd requested ready and waiting in case of sun. Alice offered to drive but was shot down by Jasper immediately, much to her chagrin. Although their entire family tended to drive as if practicing for the Grand Prix, Jasper was always twenty miles an hour slower than the rest of them. Alice, on the other hand, tended to push her vehicles the farthest. His consolation prize to her was extending the CD folder, allowing her first choice at music. Debating between selecting a gothic album he hated and a more ethereal electro-pop album they'd both fallen for recently, she admonished herself and chose the latter. Silly battles weren't worth disturbing their balance.

"Where's the turn-off I'm looking for?" Jasper asked, twenty minutes into their drive.

Alice glanced at the sign blurring by them, "Ten exits from now. There should be a small sign indicating the hospital, according to the director."

Jasper flipped the wipers on as a smattering of snowflakes began to coat the windshield, "Are you nervous?"

Alice chuckled, "Not anymore. Don't think I haven't noticed you working overtime since we left New York, Jazz. I'll be alright."

"I know you will be. But all the same, it's one thing I can do for you. Let me?"

Alice faked a heavy sigh, as if such a request were an incredible burden, "Alright. I _guess _I can do that."

"Oh, well thank you, Princess Alice, for your graciousness."

Alice did her best royalty wave, "You are most welcome, commoner."

The cut-off came quicker than Alice expected, which started her mind whirring again with the possibilities of what she might find. Mentally, she forced herself to repeat her cover story, reviewing her notes on the five missing women and their names. Jasper rubbed her thigh reassuringly, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. He knew her so well, knew every secret her body language betrayed, noticing the slightest posture changes and expressions, even when she herself was oblivious to them. He was truly, in every way, her soul mate.

The hospital loomed before them now, an imposing old building resembling a university, the grey stone walls mirroring the somber nature of the business. Alice stepped out of the car, smoothing her dress and wrapping her arms about herself, feigning a chill from the cool weather that her skin did not register. Jasper's leather jacket fit him perfectly, and she complimented herself on her shopping skills; the coat came to the top of his thigh, the cut enhancing his broad shoulders beautifully. If their task at hand was not so crucial, she might have to take him aside for private time. _Later... Definitely later. We need some us time._

They were greeted almost immediately upon entering the main reception by the Director, Alison Cavalcante, a statuesque redhead who looked to be about forty in Alice's best estimation. Dressed in a simple black suit accented by a pale green camisole, her hair loosely tied back at the nape of her neck, she greeted them warmly, insisting they call her 'Ali'. Nurses smiled and waved as they passed through a series of connecting corridors to her office, a scene of organized chaos, with files stacked haphazardly in one corner, mail in another. The large leather chairs were soft and inviting as Ali gestured for them to sit.

"Pardon the mess; it's been one of those weeks so far," Ali said sheepishly, settling into the large swivel chair behind the mahogany desk.

"No need to apologize; my desk at home is very similar," Alice laughed, flipping open her notebook.

"A kindred spirit! Well then, Ms. Cullen, let's get down to business. From our conversation yesterday, and that which I had with your father Carlisle, I understand you are looking into your family history?"

"Yes. I was adopted, and recently was given some information with regards to my family line. I believe a great-aunt of mine was a patient here at some point between 1913 and 1920. The trouble we're having at the moment is determining which exact hospital she stayed in. I've always been fascinated with family trees, and being a prospective psychiatry student, I felt it even more fitting to pursue this particular piece of history. I don't just want to know where my family was; I want to see the places my family saw. One of those places would be here."

Ali nodded vigorously, "Yes, of course. Your adoptive father was saying that you're quite the talent in the area. Now, before I take you on a tour, let's address the family issues in specific. Despite the amount of time elapsed, I wouldn't be able to release the files without some proof of family connection. Now, in your case, I understand that's difficult to do. The best I can do is confirm or deny the patient, if my records go back that far. That would require a trip to the storage room in the west wing of the facility, which we'll take a look into as we make the rounds. On the phone, you mentioned something about it being possibly hard to confirm?"

Alice nodded, putting on a somber face, "Well, you see, I suspect my family disowned my great-aunt for her illness. If this lead I was given by the adoption agency pans out, there was a death notice for her in 1913. But other documents I've uncovered suggest she actually died in 1920 while under care here. Tell me, Ali: if that were the case now, and a patient were to escape the facility somehow, would the papers report the name of someone previously believed dead, or would a false name be given?"

Ali's brow furrowed as she considered this question, leaning back in her chair, "That would be an odd circumstance. Being as the patient's family would be cross at the publicity, we'd likely give it out as a John Doe, or a false name. It would be a sensitive issue. Now, that's not very commonplace today for a family to outright declare someone dead, but in the time period you're dealing with, in this area, I could see that as feasible. Mental illness was subject to a far greater stigma at that time, even among our own practitioners. Although, it should be noted that the United States was early to move to a more humane focus in treatment."

"We also have reason to believe that if this wasn't the facility, then she was held somewhere in a hospital in Biloxi? That was her hometown," Jasper noted, earning a grateful smile from Alice, "But we can't seem to locate any current information about such a facility."

"Oh you won't!" Ali exclaimed, "That place shut down and was merged into a more general hospital in the area. Gulfport, I think it's called. The files for those patients were transferred to that hospital, I do believe. I'll have the front desk give you the address and number on your way out. Do you have a name for your great-aunt?"

Alice nodded, "We believe she was admitted as Mary Alice Brandon."

Ali jotted the name down on a post-it, affixing it to her Blackberry, "Brandon, eh? That would explain your Jane Doe situation. Likely could trace your line back to Gerard C. Brandon. They named Brandon, Mississippi after him..." Ali Cavalcante rose from her desk, slipping the Blackberry into her jacket pocket, "There's a historian who works in the library in Biloxi who collects information on the old families of that area. She might be able to help you with your family tree, Ms. Cullen. We'll get that number for you before you leave as well."

Alice's polite smile burst into a radiant grin, "That would be a tremendous help, Ali. Thank you!"

"No trouble at all! I'm glad to help. Now, shall we take that tour?"

Ali led the way into the nearest wing, which she described as being for the chronic patients who were little trouble and mostly self-sufficient. The space was open and bright, the halls a near blinding white. Jasper held Alice's hand tightly as Ali detailed the nurse's station, the recreation rooms and showed them several patient rooms. Most of the patients seemed oblivious to them, consumed by the TV in the lounge or their own conversations, but Alice noted a few who stared at the young couple following the director around. Alice found the director to be very kind and laid back, and well-liked, judging from the sincere smiles everywhere they went. She wondered at the sort of director who would have been in charge during her stay, at a time when even psychiatrists exhibited stigmas against the mentally ill. A slight shiver ran down her back, and Jasper gripped her hand tighter, squeezing it slightly. She quickly checked his future, and found him leaving the hospital calmly. Reassured, she returned her attention to the director's words.

"...Over through the door are treatment rooms, both for therapy sessions and ECT sessions -"

"ECT? Refresh my memory on that one," Alice interrupted.

"Electroconvulsive therapy. Shock treatments, colloquially. We embraced the practice early in its conception, although its use has dwindled out now. We reserve it for more extreme cases where other treatments have failed to provide any sort of symptomatic relief."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Like anything, it has its side effects, which vary person to person. The one of most concern is memory loss and disturbance, which occurs in differing degrees in different individuals. In the early years, the current introduced was higher and the electrodes placed in such a way that the likelihood of memory loss was increased. The methodology has been refined over time."

_Memory loss...Extreme cases where no other treatment has worked..._

Alice found herself longing to see the room where these procedures took place. She wondered if the sight would trigger a memory, even a body sensation recalled from another time. Jasper caught on to her distraction, and she felt herself slowing down and calming against her will. His overprotection would be an issue, apparently.

"Was the loss permanent?" Jasper asked.

"Not usually, although prolonged and frequent treatment regimens long ago did result in a few cases where older memories degraded completely. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I remember. I was going to have one of our orderlies escort you around our outside grounds while I take a look through the old files. It might take me a few minutes in there, if the wait isn't a bother?"

"Oh no, that's fine," Alice replied. I could use a stretch of the legs after all the travel in the last day."

"Very well then! I'll get right on that. You can also feel free to speak to the nurses at the initial reception for the Biloxi number and that of Gulfport while you wait."

Ali left them in the somewhat capable hands of an orderly named Daniel, and scurried off into a small corridor of the west wing. Jasper nodded to Alice, their plan already long worked out; in a minute's time, Jasper would excuse himself for a public restroom, verifying the storage room's location by her scent. Alice would keep the orderly distracted with questions about the facility's architecture, something she'd learned a little about from Esme. Alice would enter the room after the director returned to them, on the premise of using the facilities herself, and retrieve the file if it did indeed exist.

Daniel the orderly bought their story, of course; he puzzled at Alice's questions, obviously uneducated in architectural design, attempting to pull her attention towards the flower beds, which he knew much about for some unknown reason. Alice feigned fascination as he indicated the meanings of the flowers and their layouts, and their therapeutic uses. She even took a few notes, just to make poor Daniel feel useful. And in a sense, he was; he was oblivious to the fact Jasper had gone the opposite way from the washrooms after entering the main building. His return five minutes later saw Jasper smiling and nodding slightly, indicating his success. Alice passed him the notebook, and he flipped to a new page, casually commenting on the large water fountains in the front of the hospital as he scribbled a room number for Alice in a margin, handing the notebook back to her. She memorized it, flipping the notebook shut and tucking it into her large black purse as she observed Ali Cavalcante waving from the building. Daniel the orderly seemed extremely relieved to be free of the pixie girl with strange questions, happily returning them to the director's care.

"Were you able to find anything?" Alice asked her expectantly.

"I was able to locate a file in that name, yes. She was admitted in 1913 as a transfer from Biloxi, as you suspected, and the file was marked as deceased on March 6, 1920. Unfortunately, I can't disclose anything as to the nature of her illness as I said before, and her file is rather sparse, as many of the very old ones are. But she did indeed spend time here."

"Thank you so much for your help, Ali, truly. That's a huge start for us."

Jasper echoed the sentiment, "Yes, thank you. Alice and I feared we might strike a dead end, but you've certainly come through for us."

Ali smiled, "Glad to be of help to you. Now, let's get those phone numbers for you..."

"Oh! Before we get back on the road, is there a restroom I might use?" Alice asked.

"Certainly. Head down the west side right there and take your first right, down the large corridor. You'll see a vending machine ahead, indicating the family waiting area. The facilities are there."

"Thank you. I'll be right back. Jasper, could you take those numbers for me please?"

Jasper nodded, "Sure, Alice. I'll wait in the car for you."

Alice shook the director's hand, thanking her one last time before sauntering slowly down the hall, mindful of the watchful gaze of a particular nurse, a stout black-haired middle-aged woman who seemed to be on hyper-alert for any wrongdoing. Her eyes averted to a patient rapidly firing questions about cigarettes at an orderly and Alice seized her chance, zipping down the hall to the end and taking a quick left. Glancing left and right to ensure no one had seen her, she went full speed to the end of the hall, room 109A. From her hair, she withdrew a bobby pin, grateful for the simplicity of the lock guarding her desired treasure. A quick twist and lift yielded a welcome clicking, and the door swung open for her.

Ali's scent lingered strongest near a set of cabinets in the far left corner, and Alice went to work immediately, hoping Ali was the lazy sort who'd misfile within easy reach. Opening a drawer marked '1920', her eyes immediately registered a file sticking out just a little higher than the rest. Tugging it loose gently, Alice was pleased to see the label read 'Brandon, Mary A.'. Flipping through quickly, she located an admissions form, a general physical assessment performed on arrival, and several pages of what appeared to be doctor's notes and orders. The file seemed awfully barren for a seven year stay, as Ali had indicated. Alice scanned the first page of notes quickly, seeking a glimpse at her human self.

_Ms. Brandon is very bright and articulate, but withdrawn and reserved. She prefers books to socializing with other children her age, calling the books 'safer'. She believes that her 'visions of the future' are real and genuine, and cites examples of their accuracy that cannot be concretely verified... _

_Her delusional disorder is rooted deeply, and seems to have begun at the age of 5... _

_Ms. Brandon has begun refusing all treatment, insisting she is 'not a lunatic' and demanding to be released. A sedation course of treatment has begun, with an eye for sensory deprivation through solitary confinement if a week's trial yields no results... _

Alice felt her body tightening with the rage she'd felt after finding the place of her awakening, and she urged herself to calm down, reminding herself of Rosalie's words. There was nothing she could do now. Those responsible were long dead. The universe had rewarded a long-suffering soul with an eternity to spend with a caring man and no memory of the pains endured to weigh upon her, as with Rosalie. The rage was not worth her time. She shoved the pages back into the file, opting to take only the initial physical reports and her admissions documents, folding them neatly and tucking them deep inside her purse. Carefully closing the file cabinet, Alice crept to the door, checking the hallway with a blindingly fast peek, then streaking back down the corridor, again checking for prying eyes before bolting to the corner she _should_ have emerged from, bringing her pace back to a human walk for the remainder of her exit. The director waved to her from the nurse's station and she smiled widely, heading for the car, patting her purse with satisfaction.

Despite her resolution to let it go, her rage from reading her file was apparently written upon her small face. Jasper immediately stepped out of the car, crossing the parking lot quickly to her side, embracing her tightly, smoothing her hair. She said nothing; she didn't need to. For a few minutes, she simply held onto him, inhaling deeply, letting his soothing murmurs carry her back to a place of safety and calm. He was, as always, her tether to inner peace. It was something she could never adequately express to him, not in the decades she'd spent at his side. The mere vision of him that drove her to seek him out for years was a cord that bound her, kept her from going wild with newborn blood lust.

"Are you okay?" Jasper whispered into her hair.

"I am. I'm just reminding myself to let it go... I just see myself, locked away, disbelieved... Deprived of contact, abandoned by my family, and I think, 'I was a child'. They abandoned a child. I can't even begin to understand how to do that..."

"Neither can I. But maybe this other woman, the librarian in Biloxi, can help you. Did you find the file?"

Alice nodded, "We should get going. I didn't really look at the admissions form yet."

Jasper led her to her door, opening it for her, "You didn't read it yet? Implying you stole it?"

Alice looked at him innocently, "Oh, you mean I wasn't allowed to bring home souvenirs?"

Jasper gunned the engine and reversed their directions towards the hotel as Alice withdrew the papers from her purse. The general physical revealed some key facts about Mary A. Brandon that Alice noted in her book. She was roughly the same height as Alice, with a similar body type. She possessed all her adult teeth, with one slightly crooked incisor, just as Alice herself had. She was found to be well-nourished, which reassured Alice, but marked with several fading bruises on her arms, which did not reassure her at all. Her hair was black and shoulder length, her eyes listed as blue. Turning to the admissions form, Alice found another key piece of information: the reasons for admission. According to the intake doctor, her parents had indicated she was experiencing delusions of others being harmed, and that she would declare herself as 'needing to save them'. Her parents suspected her of intentionally causing injuries she 'foresaw' so she might later help, 'particularly in the case of her younger sister Cynthia...'

"A sister... Jazz..."

Jasper's eyes widened, "It says you had a sister there?"

Alice nodded, continuing to scan the document, "Yes... She was several years younger than I. Apparently my parents believed I was making up visions of her being harmed, then harming her myself to prove it... "

Jasper took her hand, negotiating the wheel with his left only, "Alice, if they were religious, they would struggle to find a viable reason for the truth of your words. You would never have harmed anyone."

"I know. But they believed I would do that... It just hurts, Jasper. I don't even know them, don't remember them, but it's a rejection all the same..."

They rode in silence towards the hotel, Jasper stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, the music playing quietly. Alice sat the papers aside, willing herself to relax and forget for a moment, for there was still so much work to be done. She hummed along with the radio, listening carefully to each chord progression, each note, her mind grinding to a slow trickle of innocent and calm thoughts. There was plenty of time ahead to be angry for the child she had been - and she _had_ been Mary Alice Brandon. She was certain of it now. Everything was adding up so perfectly, it was hard to think otherwise.

Jasper parked the car near a side entry into the hotel, swiping their card to access a small stairwell to the second floor. Upon entering the room, Alice headed for her laptop, flipping the switch on and impatiently waiting for it to warm up. There was one more detail, one more confirmation that she'd been longing to make since filching the admissions document. Opening the scanned document on the desktop, she withdrew the aging paper from her purse and read the date of admission, her hand flying to her mouth in shock despite her expectations for what she saw.

"Jasper..."

"What is it Alice?"

Alice swallowed hard, handing him the paper, "We have a match."


	17. Chapter 15: Ties That Will Bind

_Jackson, MS, present day_

Jasper lounged on the bed, his long legs barely fitting despite the purported queen size mattress, fiddling with Alice's hair as she placed several phone calls, her face betraying her anxiety despite constant reassurances that she was 'fine' and 'didn't need soothing of a false kind'. He'd reluctantly held back on working with her emotions, allowing her time to feel the sadness and apprehension that flooded her now. He'd promised not to be overbearing on the trip, and that unfortunately meant accepting that the knowledge gained might bring her sorrow.

His thoughts drifted to Edward and Bella as Alice spoke with the Biloxi librarian, arranging a meeting at five that evening to view archives and old photographs in hopes of learning more about Mary Brandon. He'd always found it best in the Cullen house to sit back and absorb the differing viewpoints and philosophies of such an eclectic group, intervening only when he truly felt it necessary or worthwhile. Most arguments did not merit his input, for he could often see all sides to the debate, and supported each in its own way. He'd supported Edward in his choice to leave Forks when Bella's blood had called out to the animal within him. He'd been wary of Edward's decision to return, but also appreciative of Edward's stance, particularly once Alice assured him that she had a strange sense that all would be well eventually. When Bella had blamed herself for the trouble with James, he'd admonished her but simultaneously felt her worry vicariously, understood that selflessness was all she knew. For all the false starts and insecurities flowing between them, he'd felt with clarity that ultimately, they shared a love on a par with his for Alice. It simply _was, _a force neither could dispute or deny. It was as if they had loved each other for all time, through different ages in different guises.

When Edward had decided to leave Forks, Jasper's guilt had nearly consumed him. He'd placed himself in Edward's shoes, picturing how he would feel if Edward were to nearly destroy Alice, and Jasper had decided to give her up to spare her life. There would be no filling the vast expanse from ripping out such a core piece of his being. But what nagged at Jasper now was the sense that Edward was being unnecessarily self-punishing, to the point of causing more harm to the one he meant to protect. Bella had no hesitations in her mind; the love that radiated from her in Edward's presence was unconditional and pure, and she would happily give up her old life to make a new one at his side. Edward was _her_ Alice, and in imagining what it would be for him to watch Alice walk away, never to return, Jasper wanted to shake Edward until sense registered in his melancholy mind. There would be no moving on for Bella, despite Edward's hope for such a thing. She would never be okay with such a loss. One never could be.

Alice turned in his lap, her face softening slightly as she hit a single key, waiting for an answer. He stared into her amber eyes, willing every bit of his devotion to her to shine through in his gaze, and she reached out to caress his jaw lightly, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. She had a way of gazing upon him that made him feel as if the entire world had dissolved into a sphere, where they two alone existed, and that was her idea of paradise. How could anyone have turned away from her? How could anyone abandon her, disown her, walking away from the child-like face that seemed to glow when she laughed, from the twinkle in her eye when she became captivated with the stars? Unconsciously, his fist began to close, and a part of him understood the rage that Alice had spoken of, the simmering heat that she'd avoided in the weeks following her return to Ithaca. It was insidious and undeniable, a craving to wreak havoc in the name of a justice that could never be. His one comfort was his memory of tearing James' flesh asunder, tossing limbs into a blazing fire with Emmett at his side. He would have made the pieces smaller, had he known then what he knew now.

"Yes, Esme, we made it okay... I spoke to him yesterday. I told him to call you... I'm sure he will soon, Esme. You know him. He withdraws in pain. What? I... No, I haven't spoken of that with him. He wouldn't listen to me anyway... Yes, Mexico... No, no, don't send Emmett. He'll only bolt further and become risky to avoid my detecting his plans... We've had some luck, but we have more digging to do tonight... Yes, he's here... Okay Esme. I love you, too."

Alice handed her cell phone to Jasper, a slightly puzzled look on her face. Jasper stared at her, equally puzzled.

"She wants to speak with you, Jazz."

Jasper took the phone almost gingerly, pressing it to his ear, "Hello Esme."

Esme's warm voice drifted into his ear, "Hi, Jasper. I know Alice says she's fine, but tell me: is she handling things well?"

"Things have gone very well so far, considering. The hospital was a wellspring of knowledge."

"Understood," Esme replied knowingly, "And how are you holding up?"

Jasper chose his words carefully, "Surprisingly easy to navigate."

"Excellent... I know I fuss and worry a lot, but I can't seem to help myself. Edward disappearing this way, abandoning his family in a time of need... There is this cavern within me, where once I took comfort in all my children being near. The house has been very lonely recently. We almost lost you, too. I would hate to see you leave, Jasper. Please remember that."

_Oh, Esme... There truly is no hiding from you_... "We considered that, but we're going to stay with our current strategy."

"Thank you, Jasper. Take care of that girl for me, and we'll see you soon. Will you return here or meet us in Denali?"

"Most likely the latter, depending on how long we're here. I've taken care of everything for Cornell, so we're free to do so."

"Very well, then. Keep in touch."

Jasper closed the phone, passing it back to a curious Alice, who tugged gently at his shirt. He shook his head, causing a mildly annoyed reaction, one he dismissed by scooping her up off his lap, laying her beside him. He tangled his limbs about her and she giggled, curling against his hip with a contented sigh.

"When do we leave for Biloxi?"

Alice's eyes drifted to the clock, "We have an hour or two, by my estimate. Was Esme checking up on me?"

Jasper laughed, "Curiousity killed the cat, you know."

"I'm already dead," Alice deadpanned, "So, was she?"

Jasper chuckled, "Just a little. But that's Esme, isn't it?"

Alice smiled, "Yes. And I wouldn't have her any other way."

"So, now that we have hours to spare, what are your plans?" Jasper asked coyly.

Alice grinned, running her hands underneath his shirt, pressing her palms to his bare chest, "I was figuring I would thank you for all of your help, good sir."

"And how do you propose to do that, ma'am?" Jasper drawled, delighting in the shiver his accent sent coursing down her spine.

Alice did not answer him with words; she moved straight to actions. With a sly smile, she deftly rolled on top of him, straddling his hips as she reached behind her to unzip the wool dress clinging to her delicate curves, revealing a crimson bra that lifted her small bosom, adorning it with silk and lace, a tiny studded buckle holding it shut at the front. With a wink she tossed the dress across the room, landing it haphazardly across the minibar. His hands moved to caress her soft skin, but he found them batted away, Alice shaking a finger at him playfully.

"Uh-uh. Not yet."

"Yes, ma'am," Jasper nearly moaned in reply.

Alice uttered a low growl of pleasure as she leaned down to bit his neck gently, her hands tugging his shirt upwards, desperate to bare his flesh. Were he human still, Jasper knew his body would have been on fire now, such was his yearning to be with her. Her arms seized his shoulders, pulling him up to nearly sitting, her right arm stabilizing him as her left tore at the garment, discarding it beside the bed. His hands slinked towards her hips, scarcely reaching the lacy band of her crimson panties before she swatted them away, shoving him backwards onto the bed. Her hands seized his wrists, pinning them above his head, and he pouted.

"I thought I said not yet," she admonished him.

"I thought I was the man, ma'am," he drawled, struggling against her half-heartedly.

"I thought you were a gentleman from the South. You do not touch a lady without her permission," Alice murmured, intentionally grinding her hips against his.

"My apologies, my lady. You are in charge."

Alice licked her lips, bending until her forehead met his, their lips nearly together, "You know I can't hold out long when you turn that accent up."

Jasper flicked his tongue, grazing her lips, "I know, ma'am. I'm playing to win."

Alice's grip upon him loosened slightly, and he seized the opportunity, flipping her onto her back to her giggled protests. His mouth collided with hers, kissing her deeply as he unbuckled her bra, anxious to feel her chest against his. An idea flickered through his mind and he pulled back, his fingers running in circles upon her pale belly.

"A couple of hours you said?"

Alice nodded, "Minus time for a shower, of course."

Jasper grinned, "No minus necessary, this time. What do we never have opportunity for?"

Alice's eyes widened, "We haven't done that in ages..."

Jasper leapt to his feet, stripping quickly before tossing Alice over his left shoulder. She flailed and kicked in mock protest, worming her way loose and he deftly juggled her body, feeling her thighs wrap about him, his hands supporting her scantily-clothed rear. He pinned her against the wall, his kisses intense, her mouth just as hungry for his. His lips moving to her neck, her ear lobe, his mouth and tongue inhaling the sweetness of her skin, he carried her into the spacious washroom, the door kicked shut behind them. _Finally, a bathroom to ourselves_, he thought giddily as hot water began to steam up the mirrors. Alice had dragged him under a waterfall on their honeymoon twenty years ago, keeping him happily hostage there for nine hours under the moonlight. Nine hours was out of the question for now, but Jasper spent the next two hours recreating the wildest sex of their memory...

It was ten after five when Alice, now clad in flared low rise jeans and a black cashmere sweater, skidded through the door of the Biloxi library with Jasper in tow. She fluffed her hair self-consciously, having had to let it air dry on the drive from Jackson. The ear to ear grin Jasper had when they emerged from the bathroom would not fade, nor would the devious imaginings of how she planned to repay him that night fade from hers. In a wise move, Alice had purchased two white shower curtains on their way to Biloxi: one to replace the hotel's now torn curtain, tossed aside on the floor, and the other in case their replacement met a similar fate.

Gregory Morris was seated at the main reference desk at their arrival, sorting through what appeared to be photo albums. At the clicking sound of the heels on Alice's black boots, his eyes rose expectantly to greet them. He gestured to a set of chairs before him, rummaging through sheets of paper. He was an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with white hair that remained surprisingly thick. His face was creased with laugh lines, lending a jolly sort of look to him. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he extended a hand to Alice.

"You must be Alice. I'm Greg; we spoke earlier."

Alice shook his hand and settled into a chair, "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I appreciate the help."

"No trouble at all, Miss. I'm an avid local history buff, and it's nice when that knowledge comes to good use. It helps me defend my hobby as more than a waste of time with the missus."

Jasper chuckled, "Ah, yes. Well, my missus here is trying to learn more about her biological family tree. Were you able to locate anything on the Brandons?"

Greg nodded, passing a pile of papers towards Alice, "Indeed I was. Your great-aunt Mary was descended from Gerard Brandon, who was governor of the state way back in the 1800's. Sort of a daughter of a daughter of a cousin sort of deal. In any case, I did a little scanning of the old newspaper clippings and found a few articles worth viewing for you. Her birth announcement indicates she was born to Louisa and William Brandon of Biloxi on January 22nd of 1901. William Brandon was part of the management of one of the local fisheries at the time. The seafood industry was a booming business at that time. You wouldn't call them rich but they did live comfortably. Mary was the eldest child by about eight years or so; little Cynthia Ann was born February 26th of 1908. Now, if you flip to the third page you have there, you'll see that Louisa Prescott married William Brandon in 1897."

Alice flipped through the pages, startled by the picture of the smiling couple at the top of the photocopied notice. The young woman with the gentle curls in her hair had the same small features as Alice, although her mouth was wider, the lips fuller. The somewhat bookish man beside her had her tiny mouth and perfectly almond-shaped eyes, with wavy, slightly unkempt black hair. Scanning the text below, the wedding announcement confirmed a June wedding with a large reception gala that followed. The article also indicated that Louisa and William were high school sweethearts who had met at their Methodist church. Alice passed the article to Jasper, whose mouth fell slightly open at the resemblance in the photographs.

Greg continued, flipping to another page in his notes, "Now, you were saying something about your aunt's death not being her actual death on the phone. I did locate a death notice in the paper, as well as a photograph of Mary Alice Brandon, dated December 21, 1913. The cause of death was listed as tuberculosis. Interesting error in the notice: they list the age as 13 but she wasn't quite there yet. You'll find that a few pages in as well." He paused a moment, staring at Alice's face, "Your family resemblance is incredible. You could be her daughter."

Alice hesitated at flipping to the notice, opting instead to ask her questions, "Would it have been common for families to publicly declare a child or relative dead if they were found to be extremely mentally ill, Mr. Morris?"

Greg nodded, "Unfortunately, it did happen. Small town gossip, a highly religious community... It's a pressure to maintain appearances. Anything that did not mesh with the status quo would be tucked away as neatly as possible. I could feasibly see that happening with any descendants of the Brandon line. They would be known enough that the socialites would talk. Just as anemia was the 1800's way of labelling deaths of teenagers during the delivery of bastard children begot through indiscretions, so would a wasting and highly contagious condition like tuberculosis suit a mentally disturbed family member."

Jasper took the pages from Alice, his curiousity driving him mad, "Did you happen to learn more about the sister, Cynthia?"

Greg nodded, "I found a marriage announcement for you in that pile there, as well as the notice for the birth of her daughter, Marianne. Marianne still lives in Biloxi; spry old lady, she is. She may be in the home now, but she's not an invalid. Celebrated her 76th birthday last month. Was there anything else I could help you with, Miss Cullen?"

Alice exchanged a quick glance with Jasper, who shook his head, "Just one more thing and then we'll stop taking up your time, Mr. Morris. Where would Mary Brandon's grave be?"

"Hmm... That's a good question. I don't believe it was noted in the announcement there, but there may be a family plot. I believe William passed on a year before Marianne was born, if I recall her birth notice properly. Would you give me a few minutes to check the microfiche?"

"I would appreciate that so much. We'll wait," Alice replied.

Greg Morris rose, walking with a slight limp towards a small room behind the main desk, which Alice assumed was a viewing room of some sort. She turned to Jasper, whose gaze remained transfixed by the page before him. Twirling her hair nervously, she leaned over, examining the page for herself, and found her chest tightening as if struck violently. The young girl on the death notice before them was a dead ringer for Alice. Her hair was very long, past her shoulders, pouring down in long waves, her smile shy and small. Her eyes were pale in the black and white photo, which Alice wagered indicated blue or green colouring, and she wore a modest light-coloured dress and a small cross on a chain. Face to face with her human self, with final proof of her identity, Alice could not move nor speak.

"There's no denying it, Alice. We found you," Jasper whispered quietly.

Alice mind whirled, assembling the plethora of facts before them now. She had a birthday now, a true one, not merely the estimated day she began her life as a vampire. She had a last name, one she'd not pulled from a novel or borrowed from an adoptive family. She had parents, with faces and names, and a sister. She had a niece, alive and well in Biloxi, by the name of Marianne. After so many years of uncertainty, she had too much to assimilate. Jasper rubbed her back gently, kissing her cheek and Alice took the papers from him, flipping to the birth notice for Marianne Louisa Anderson, daughter of Cynthia and Harold Anderson. She couldn't help but wonder if the choice in name was driven by the 'death' of her older sister. The notice indicated that Cynthia's father was recently deceased, although no cause was given.

"So much loss at such a young age. She lost her father and her sister before her twenty-third birthday."

"You lost your family before turning thirteen," Jasper reminded her, "You both suffered greatly."

"The picture... It's so strange to see it..."

Jasper held it up beside her face, "The long hair is what throws me, personally. It's gorgeous on you, but I've grown rather attached to your short styles."

"I could obtain a wig, if you so desire..."

Jasper chuckled, leaning to whisper in her ear as Greg Morris rose from the desk in the adjacent room, "It wouldn't be the first time you played dress-up for me."

Alice knew if it were possible for her to do so, she would be blushing a deeper shade of red than Bella had at the prom last spring. Emmett and Rosalie prided themselves on the houses and furniture their antics destroyed, but she had it on good authority from Edward's gifts that she and Jasper were the most adventurous couple in the Cullen household. It was simply not expected from the quiet couple who seldom kissed with an audience, which spared them prying comments from Emmett most of the time. Alice fought hard to plan her antics spontaneously, lest Edward groan at 'too much information'. As fun as it was to punish Edward for his mental eavesdropping, Alice preferred to keep her sexual fantasies between her and her husband.

"We're in luck, Miss Cullen," Greg announced, passing her a slip of notebook paper, "William Brandon was interred at a family plot in a cemetary about twenty miles from here. That's the address there. It's a straight shot up the main drag out there until you hit the street, then head east about 8 miles. Impossible to miss it."

Alice folded the paper carefully, slipping it into her pocket, "I can't thank you enough for all your hard work, Mr, Morris. I was fully prepared to do the legwork myself tonight."

"It's been a slow day and it helped pass the time. There may be more information out there in the paper archives, perhaps. Public appearances of note and that sort of thing. I focused on the key stuff first in my searches. You feel free to stop by if you want to dig a little further through the back issues."

Jasper rose, reaching for Greg's hand, "This means a lot to Alice. I'm very grateful for all of your help today."

"All in a day's work! You take care now, Miss Cullen."

Alice smiled shyly, the smile of the photo clutched in her hand, "Same to you, Mr. Morris."

Slipping her hand into Jasper's, she allowed him to lead the way, slightly shocked still by the photograph of her younger, mortal self. _Such long, beautiful hair_, she thought sadly. _Did I cut it off or did the hospital make me?_ Her mind drifted to her unknown protector, the asylum worked who'd turned her, and she wondered what he looked like and what he had seen in her for him to protect her from James. In her, did he see a vulnerability that intrigued him? Was it a romantic love, as with Carlisle and Esme, or was it more paternal, as with Edward? Was the unknown vampire lonely like Carlisle, desiring a constant companion, or was his decision to abduct and change her a reluctant one that seemed a happier alternative than slaughter?

"Where to, Alice? The hotel?" Jasper inquired, holding open the car door for her.

Alice pondered for a moment, her head crowded with desires and ideas, "I think... Yes. As much as my instincts want to carry me to the grave right now, or to learn more about my niece, I think this is a lot of information in a very short time. We've found it all so easily, and we'd given ourselves days to do so. Perhaps a night off would do us both good?"

"Agreed. Besides, we have another shower curtain to destroy."

Alice laughed as Jasper shut the door, walking just a little _too_ quickly to the driver's side door, which she swung open for him, "We do have all night..."

Across the street, unbeknownst to Alice and Jasper, a set of deep ruby eyes watched them, set within a face of steely resolve. The observer frowned, displeased with the company the raven-haired vampire kept tonight; she'd expected the bronze-haired bastard to be with her. Her other plans would have to address that problem separately now, she decided, slinking away, a fiery tangle of hair streaking through the trees as she sprinted north towards Iuka, her temporary base.

She was biding her time, now, awaiting word from her ally of the death of the bastard's treasure, the one who'd taken her mate and creator from her. This breadcrumb trail had proven easy to lay, as had her southern jaunt several days prior. Without the expertise of one like her James, these silly Cullens did alright, but were simply out of their depth.

Although she thought highly of her colleague, who was on his way to Forks to obtain information about the human girl, she knew from her own recent attempts to seek her out that powerful forces were lurking in the woods there. What she needed were pawns... Little pieces she could toss in the way, diverting the predators left while she swung right. And soon, if her plans came to fruition, her chess board would be loaded and ready for her game.

This was about far more than the murder of James, far more than the bonds of love and devotion to one's originator, for it was James who had given her immortality in 1920, in the town where she now raced to. This went beyond the human girl and the Cullens' protection of her against all logic and reason. This was about harming them emotionally, stripping them of their security and leaving them to face a life in shadow of a death. For Victoria had spent her immortal life in Alice's shadow, forever held to an impossible dream of a blue-eyed pixie who'd captivated James so long ago, whose blood had brought him to a boil from its unattainability. Her scent, her beauty had been thrown in her face subtly, as he cursed his failure to claim her flesh for his feasting. His turning of Victoria had not been intended; he'd likened her scent to that of the deranged girl, had struck her to vicariously kill another, only to find himself so disappointed with the differences that he'd not finished her off. As much as she'd treasured his protection and company, James had never loved her as she had loved him. And for that, she cursed Alice. His death had been grave insult to decades of injury. Victoria smiled to herself as she cut through a vacant lot, dodging the last beams of the day's sun, feeling the pieces fall into place in her scheme.

"Soon," she hissed, her words lost in the night breeze rolling through the sparse trees, "Soon..."


	18. Chapter 16: Metamorphosis

_Tunica, MS, March 6, 1920_

Alistair hurriedly sat the limp body of Alice down upon the surgical table, scrambling beneath it for the supplies he'd gather the previous night in anticipation of his plan. A quiet mumble slipped from her lips and he froze, mindful of the potential for her visiosn to leak out from her tranquilizer-induced sleep. The one word he detected clearly was 'grass', which seemed benign enough. There were far more pressing matters at hand, now. He'd seen the Hunter, closing in on their hideaway in Vickburg. They had forty minutes at best, if his tracking skills were as exemplary as Alistair believed them to be.

He carefully applied the electrodes to Alice's scalp, as he'd seen Dr. Wertz do many a time in recent months. She remained mercifully oblivious to her plight, unaware of what awaited her. Adjusting the readings on Dr. Wertz's special machine, he turned to a small notebook in his pocket to confirm the exact numbers. The last thing he wished to do was destroy her mind beyond repair, annihilating what made her so unique and endearing to him. Satisifed that he'd made the correct adjustments and assembled the equipment properly, Alistair reached for the leather binding, fastening Alice's limbs to the sides of the table, cinching them tight enough to prevent injury during the procedure. The mouthpiece, designed to prevent damage to her tongue, was inserted delicately. With a quick survey to ensure all was in order, Alistair bent over the tiny girl, brushing a lock of hair from her left eye, kissing her forehead gently.

"I pray this works, sweet Alice. Down the rabbit hole we go..."

The switch in his hand, Alistair nudged it on and began to count, wincing as her body convulsed violently before him. Dr. Wertz had come to rely on a seven second burst during his work at the hospital, declaring it to create the most optimal results. Tapping his foot impatiently, anxious for it to be over, Alistair followed the protocol, hearing the doctor's measured counting in his mind as he echoed it aloud softly, avoiding the twitching face of his soon-to-be daughter.

"Five... Six... Seven."

Alistair cut the power, standing back, awaiting the full dissolution of the charges. The shuddering continued, with slightly less intensity, gradually winding down to a halt. Closing his eyes, Alistair focused his willpower and stepped forward, sliding Alice's pretty blue gown upward, revealing her white stockings and bloomers, and her slim bare stomach. Inwardly he shuddered, his body tense as he instructed himself in what he unfortunately could not wait to do. Although he knew that the neck would yield a speedier transformation, he did not trust himself to leave her alive if he sunk his teeth into her there, where the pulse points shot her delicious scent of strawberries and white wine into the air at a rapid rate.

"Forgive me," he whispered sadly, "If I fail at this. And forgive me if I succeed, for the pain will be great. I pray the treatment was enough to mute that for you, dear girl."

In his mind, he pictured the future he longed for: he in the role of a father, guiding the education of a young woman dressed in the finest fabrics, a young woman who had a large yard within which to roam. He would catch her a pet rabbit, and they would read under the stars every night, two little wanderers exploring the continents, drinking in literature and knowledge. He locked in on her face, pale and beautiful, shimmering with power and strength, a shy smile. Crossing himself unwittingly, he bent forward and sunk his teeth into her left thigh, drinking that first mouthful he'd craved a year ago, when Nurse LeCroix had revealed this angel to him.

The hot blood rolled about his tongue, down his throat, a thick coating that soothed the burn that lingered constantly in her presence. She was a fine wine, aged to perfection, and his guttural growls betrayed the monster awoken within, the monster that forever demanded more. His mental image flickered as he struggled to pull back, pull away, and it took grasping the table and shoving himself back with enough force to slam his body into the wall to break the hold her delicious crimson nectar held over him. On the table, her body jolted, her eyes still shut, her mind unconscious, but in her dreams, she whispered of burning, of flames licking her feet. Alistair slapped his face, turning away from the bloody skin to regroup and prepare, knowing he needed to bite her at least once more, to ensure as speedy of a change as possible. He needed to taint the Hunter's fantasy to save her life. If he'd known how to run an intravenous line of pure venom into her blood, he would have done so without hesitation.

"You have to do this," he whispered, closing his eyes, "Your daughter needs you."

Forcing himself not to inhale her scent, he lunged forward, teeth sinking into her abdomen, piercing through her garments and tearing them slightly, a pale red stain spreading quickly, marring them. He suckled hungrily, feeling his will slipping after allowing himself that which he'd all but deprived himself of for a year now. It had been four months without human blood. The power that surged through him was more potent than any other, and he began to lose sense of his name, of the place, of anything but the delicious ruby droplets pouring through him now.

_The Hunter!_ His subconscious screamed, breaking through. _Save her from him!_

He gasped, shoving himself backwards and cracking the wall this time, her scent already beginning to change as the venom coursed through. His body ached to consume and devour her, and he wiped at his mouth, lapping at the spilled blood upon his fingertips. He'd done it. He'd done what he'd not believed possible: he'd turned a human, one whose blood beckoned to him in a way no one else's had ever done. She'd sung to him and he'd resisted the siren's song. On the table, Alice twitched, but did not awaken, her flesh blushing from the heat of the infection now laying claim to her body, its host. He reached out to lower her dress, his logical side regaining control and his sens of modesty and respect returning. They had precious little time left to move.

Alistair could feel the Hunter approaching, faster than he'd believed possible. He also knew that there was still time to kill Alice, a window where feasting upon her would still appeal to the bastard. He needed to safeguard her for another hour or two, and running with her weight upon his back would slow him down. He needed to misdirect the young, vicious vampire for a while longer.

Alistair returned to the stowed items beneath the table, withdrawing two blankets bearing the mark of the mental hospital upon them. One had belonged to Delia Gates, the mourning mother down the hall from Alice; the other was from the room of Mr. Jeffers, the blanket he'd clung to for weeks in spite of the nurses wishing to launder it for him. Their scents easily confused the already altered scent of Alice, the scent the Hunter had inhaled with a sick smile of satisfaction one month ago as he'd stalked them on the grounds, following Alistair as he'd carried her outside during a false fire alarm. Alistair prayed it would be enough to conceal her and send him east, where Alistair would head without her. He cradled the bundle of blanket and burning girl outside, running swiftly five miles west towards the river, where a little valley in the fields offered up a large shallow hole he'd dug last night with his bare hands.

He placed her gently onto the cold earth, wrapping the blankets tightly about her, mindful of her still human need to remain warm and comfortable. Beside her, he nestled in the book they'd shared over the last year, an inscription written neatly inside it for her, his gift for his new child. Grasses and leaves were piled nearby, awaiting this moment, and he scooped them gently over her, obscuring the dark bundled body until it blended as well as it could blend here in the woods. The area was not well travelled, as far as Alistair could determine. She should be safe here for a day, at least, when he would return to stand watch over her.

"Goodbye, Alice. I will be here when you awake from your strange dreams..."

With one final gaze, he sprinted impossibly fast towards the small hut, snatching up his satchel and donning Alice's overcoat, dabbing her spilled blood from the table upon it to solidify the trail. Without looking back, he ran wildly, the smell of dawn on the horizon, knowing that to cross more populated areas now was risky even with the recent inclement weather. He needed to reach Iuka quickly, needed to lure the Hunter there before daybreak. He dashed through trees, rubbing the coat against them here and there, planting the little links that would bait him ever farther from his true goal. In his mind he saw him, ten miles from the hut and closing quickly, and Alistair swallowed hard, waiting for the cat to chase the mouse into his trap. Only time would tell now; there was no more he could do.

James knew immediately upon entering the small shack that his hunt had been ruined by the old foolish vampire. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the vampire's own wretched scent. James spat and cursed, overturning the table and slamming it into the wall, the table buckling and nearly crumpling on impact.

He'd drank her. He'd drank from _his_ prey. His prize was _tainted now_ with the venom of the old bastard, and possibly already dead. And yet, the foolish one had taken the body with him. What for? James struggled to understand the old man's intentions, wondering why he would work so feverishly for weeks to protect that which he'd destroy the first moment possible. Had he always intended to devour the girl? Had he finally come to his senses and stopped denying his nature? And if so, why would he work so diligently to obscure the path he'd taken. Unless...

"He's gone and changed her. The son of a bitch has _infected_ my pet." Her blood would be tinged now with the taste of his own. Her scent would never be the same. That scent... It had haunted James' days and nights for a month now. It called to him from miles away, taunting him, daring him to indulge, to taste, to lap at her bare throat as her jugular spring open in his jaws. It would never be his now. And for this, the old vampire would pay dearly.

Circling the small shack, the scent of the old fool and the blood seemed strongest to the east. He was changing his strategy now, abandoning the river for the depths of more populated areas, hoping most likely to blend in as he had done for the last while as he'd - and at this thought, James shuddered with disgust - _worked for the humans_. His kind could crsuh these pathetic mortals, these little lambs who were so easily led. Why anyone would choose to be subservient to those who were so easy to manipulate and maim, James would never fathom. Racing through the trees and sparse houses, he inhaled deeply, following the old man's scent now, knowing hers could not be trusted now. It veered north slightly but remained predominantly eastward, towards the soon to rise sun. His long hair flowed in the breeze as he ran, the limp locks given life, his military garb made for combat. And there would be combat; of that, James was certain. He would destroy this vampire, this _Alistair_ for his interference. He would see him in pain...

Alistair came to a rest at the summit of Woodall Mountain, heaving his satchel to the ground, his mind turning to his Alice and picturing her within the blankets, the venom enveloping her limbs and torso now. The Hunter was gaining on him rapidly; he'd seen him pass nearby trees, pausing briefly and contemplating killing an older man who'd stepped out into the forest for an early morning hunt before continuing on, his keen sense of smell easily following Alistair's trail. There would be a battle, Alistair knew; obsessive trackers like this Hunter would not suffer the insult of a hunt spoiled by one of their own kind. He was a proud sort, this Hunter. He would seek his vengeance, and Alistair needed to prepare for it. He had skill and experience on his side, as well as patience, but this Hunter was a relative newborn, with the fierce strength and rage on his side.

The summit would force the Hunter into a smaller area, and reduce his exit pathways, should he attempt to bolt. For Alistair was equally determined to ensure this Hunter paid dearly for his threats to Alice. He would tear the cocky bastard limb from limb, if he had his way, and delight int the sound of his flesh tearing. He'd never destroyed another of his kind, but Alistair had once known a nomad who'd been witness to the wars for territories in the south. The only way to be certain, the nomad had said, was to rip the vampire to pieces and torch the remains. It was the way the armies fought, tearing each other asunder, the victorious ones piling the bodies and burning them, a foul stench rising from the flames that bespoke their unholy nature. The tearing apart would be Alistair's pleasure.

A branch cracked several miles in the distance, very deliberately. He wanted him to know that he was on his trail. The Hunter enjoyed his games, enjoyed the mental aspect as much as the physical chaos and destruction it all culminated to. Alistair wondered if the Hunter had been a killer in his life, if the spilling of blood came naturally to him. His cruelty was disturbing, unsettling. He wondered at how he had become one of them and whether it had been deliberate. As the Hunter came into view, his face twisted in anger, Alistair readied his body, calculating positions and movements from every angle and distance.

"Well, well, well... Alistair, is it? You've certainly kept me on the move tonight."

Alistair snarled, "No one extended an invitation to you for my private party this evening. Perhaps you should have stayed home, young one, tucked into beddy-bye."

James laughed, tossing his hair back as he slowly advanced, surveying his surroundings, "I do believe it was Ms. Brandon who invited me, with her intriguing perfume. I did not wish to keep her waiting any longer. But I am troubled, you see. Here we are, and here she is not. She wasn't snug in her bed tonight when I came to tuck into her flesh... You wouldn't happen to know, old one, where she might be?"

Alistair circled slightly left, keeping a somewhat easy leaping point to the ground far below to his back for the sake of evasion, "She is safe from killers like you, forever."

James growled, a deep sound of fury so primal it sent the birds that had dared linger in the nearby trees soaring into the sky, sailing far away from the scene of slaughter on the horizon. In his mind, he saw the girl, her fragile little arms, her tiny face, the neck pulsing with life. He'd never been denied any desire, not in his mortal life or the one that followed. In his coat lay a small pistol, with two shots loaded. He also carried a vile of foul fluid, which he know patted subtly, his rage giving way to crystalline visions of how he would watch this wretched fool suffer.

"You know, I have never been denied in my life, Alistair. I always_, always_ get my way. What you have done tonight? You will suffer the consequences."

Alistair huffed, "You are nothing but a spiteful child, in the guise of playing monster. You do not know what you are inviting upon yourself. You're but a toddler, throwing his toys from his pram in a fit because mother denied him a treat. She was never yours to have."

"Is that so? Tell me, old man: if she was always to be your delicacy, your meal, then why did you spend so long as a whipping boy for humans while denying yourself the tender morsel? Did you spend spare hours thinking of her, of her beauty and of how she would never, if she were sane enough to grasp it, want you? Was this a matter of proving yourself a man? Did the thought of younger competition drive you wild with jealousy, Alistair? Or did you change her so she would feel bound to please you in _every_ way-"

"SILENCE! You're sickening. She is a child. She is a daughter to me. And do not be mistaken; she knows what we are, and she accepted her fate long ago. I only changed her to save her from you. And now, for making me rob her of her ability to grow and live, I will do to you what you have vowed to do to her with your disgusting letters. I will make you suffer in ways you have never conceived of."

Alistair lunged at him then, his rage consuming him as he slammed the young vampire to the ground, feeling the jacket of his uniform tear beneath his fists. His hands struck out, attempting to seize him by the neck, but the young one wrenched himself around onto his hands and knees, bucking wildly as if a bull and driving Alistair through the air into the trunk of a large oak. The trunk cracked from the force and Alistair shook himself, stunned slightly, dodging his head down as the Hunter's fists struck out for his jaw. A quick punch upwards into the vile young man's arm created a delicious cracking noise in the lower arm. The young one retreated slightly, cursing, and Alistair roared to his feet, an eye to tearing the stronger arm from its shoulder socket.

As he lunged forward, the young one anticipated his move, throwing out the cracked arm in its way as a swift kick caught Alistair in his chest, his steps stumbling backwards slightly. Another kick caught him in the groin and he unwittingly buckled, leaving an opening for the Hunter to grasp his skull, cracking it into his knee as he shoved him into a tree. In Alistair's mind, he saw Alice's pensive face, the day she had foretold of Alistair's forced hand, of how he would 'have' to kill her. His anger burned anew and he rushed the Hunter, driving him thirty feet back until he collided with a large boulder near the mountain's edge, another cracking noise piercing the otherwise silent dawn. He drew back his right arm, slamming his fist into his jaw, watching the bones shuttle to the side slightly, knowing it was out of joint now. The Hunter growled in frustration and came at him, knocking him down, a hail of fists connecting with his head and torso. Alistair dodged the head blows, the anger he felt muting any discomfort from the body shots, until suddenly, one such shot created a confusing rush of fluid creeping down his chest. Alistair shoved him hard, knocking the young one off and leaping to his feet, looking down at his black shirt in confusion. The smell was powerful, familiar, but not immediately jarring his memory. He looked up to see the young Hunter smiling, holding a pistol in his left hand.

"You foolish boy, what are you doing? Do you believe a bullet can stop our kind?" The Hunter smiled,

"Not without assistance," he said quietly, cocking the pistol.

One moment, there they stood, at a standstill. The next, Alistair found himself engulfed in flames, spreading the length of his body rapidly. The smell finally registered as he stumbled backwards towards the edge of the mountain. Kerosone. He'd set him on fire. Perhaps the young one had wits about him after all. The young one advanced and Alistair shuffled faster towards the edge, knowing his only chance at survival would be escaping and soothing the impossible agony that now plunged down his legs, a halo of orange and red his aura now. If the Hunter tore him asunder now, he was done for. He dodged a swipe, stepped back again, his mind spinning with anguish and he waited for one last shove, allowing himself to sail backwards, plummeting hundreds of feet, rolling his body into a ball and aiming for the shrubbery and soft dirt below. He connected hard, rolling immediately, feiging unconsciousness in case the Hunter could somehow see his face. The flames settled, his stony flesh cooling as he rolled, coming to a stop beneath the cover of several large bushes. The ache refused to subside. He needed rest, He needed to hide. He closed his eyes, willing his body to heal, furious at this defeat. He struggled to see the Hunter, to determine his next action, but the broken bones and flesh blocked all else from his mind.

"Alice..." He whispered hoarsely.

He could only hope to regain strength before she awoke. But for now, he would recover, and hope the Hunter did not find her first...

Above on the summit, James was laughing, pleased with his success. The kerosene had worked beautifully, sending the old man to a fiery death. As strong as a vampire was, there was no way he'd survived such a fall while burning brighter than a Yule log. It was a small but satisfying consolation for the loss of the young girl's blood. And what had happened to her? James' thoughts now strayed to her lithe form and weak smile. She was not here; he'd found a small discarded coat near the base of the summit that reeked of her, but her body was nowhere to be seen. Had he hidden her somewhere at the base of the mountain? Or had he stowed her along the way as he ran?

James stood at the top of the summit, debating whether to locate the orderly's body and enjoy the mangled site or pursue the hidden girl. On one hand, he could marvel at what a bullet igniting oil could do to an impossibly strong vampire; on the other hand, perhaps he could have a little fun watching her writhe and burn, perhaps even take a nip of her blood before it completely turned to venomous gall. If she were near, he may have time...

There was no movement below. The old man was done for. James abandoned him, moving swiftly and stealthily down the mountain, winding through dirt trails, rocks and trees, retracing his steps carefully. The sun was bright today; he'd have to conceal himself soon and wait for nightfall. But in the quiet hours where few wandered out, he could hunt and potentially gather. He trekked onward, inhaling deeply, dancing between beams of sun in search of the blood of the siren...

The young girl awoke with a start, the incredibly strong scent of blood, dirt and grass filling her nostrils. Her tiny hands grasped and found soil, branches, assorted twigs, and she dropped them, her confusion giving way to intense fear. She could not see. Was she blinded? Her senses whirled, each shrieking with the acute awareness of her surroundings, each fighting to provide information to guide her. Debris covered her flesh, as well as itchy woolen blankets; her eyes attuned to these, recognizing that she was not truly blind. Her ears seemed to ache from the sounds of birds, the rustle of wind through trees, every shifting of her body against the fabric and earth. She felt strong, and fast, though she feared moving, as if it were somehow dangerous to do so. Was someone there? She could not see without moving the covers.

In straining to hear approaching predators, it dawned on her that she did not have a heartbeat. She struggled to understand why, her mind dizzy, each thought disjointed and broken into fragments and flashes. Nothing made sense. She could not remember her name. She knew instinctively that she should have a heartbeat. She could hear the beating of the heart of a small animal nearby; it moved quickly, with tiny footsteps, scurrying away from her. She felt something move along her head, tiny legs... an insect of some kind. There was another, and it startled her. She suddenly realized that she had not taken a breath in minutes. Why did she not need to breathe? What was she? Who was she?

Her back ached, a sharp stone of some sort lodged beneath her. She rolled slightly, extricating it from beneath the blankets and dirt. It was a book of some sort, with soft brown covers that were well-worn. She flipped it open gingerly, still wrapped within the thick blankets, as if remaining hidden would keep her safe from whatever lurked outside. And something did lurk; her instincts sensed an intruder approaching from her right. She needed to move soon. She needed to hide. But the book beckoned to her, and somehow she sensed it held great importance in understanding what she was.

She found the inscription in black ink upon the second page, in precise cursive writing, each word beginning with a large looping letter in uppercase_. To Alice, from your White Rabbit. _She had a name: Alice.

There was a sound distantly, within the trees, and she knew it was time to move. Her arm reached out and threw back the covers, and again, she felt blinded, only by whiteness now. It was all so white, so bright. Her eyes could not focus; the sun burned her corneas, obscuring all shapes and forms for several seconds until slowly, images began to form. She was in a wooded area, a rolling field somewhere. Nearby, the sound of rushing water drifted towards her; it was perhaps a mile away. Overhead, a single bird flew from its nest, disturbed by the awakening beauty below. Her body was clad in a blue dress, the skirt dirty and torn at the bottom hemline. She did not remember how she acquired the garments. She did not understand why the book was beside or, or who a 'white rabbit' might be.

A shifting in the trees. A movement. In her mind, she saw a man, with long brown hair, tangled and obscuring his long face. He wore military clothes. He smiled in a way that struck fear into her. The trees shifted again. _He's coming. RUN._ She scrambled desperately to her bare feet, her hand driving the book deep into the earth, it quickly forgotten as her eyes scanned each direction. _The water._ She bolted towards its rushing sound, the beckoning calm of its rhythmic ebb and flow. Stones and twigs dug into her feet, but the pain did not matter much. She swiped at her hair, short jagged pieces that stuck out wildly, brushing the insects loose, her eyes wild. In her throat, she began to feel a burning. It was a thirst, but water did not appeal to her. Her mind flickered, and she saw the man, the faceless one, the one with but a grin, back away and depart. He would not follow. _Safe...Safe..._ She rushed to the water, throwing herself down at its shores, cupping it to her mouth and swallowing. Instantly she wretched, spewing it back into the blue. The burn intensified. _Why can't I drink?_

A noise in the woods. Her mind flickered and she saw herself, her mouth at the throat of a deer, drinking. The image was sharp, as if a photograph were branded upon her brain. _Who am I?_ Drawn by the image, driven by the burn, she began to stalk the moving creature, treading carefully through the grass. Instincts rolled over her. _Blood._ The thought sent her into a state of ecstasy that revolted and enraptured her. She heeded its call...

Seventeen miles away now, James came to a halt in a shady spot. He'd found her far too late. She'd been nearly complete when he'd stumbled onto the shroud in which the old vampire had buried her, nearly two days after he'd thrown the vampire to his death. He'd watched from afar, anticipating her awakening, in awe of the process now that it was not he who burned upon the ground. Her eyes betrayed her confusion; she seemed oblivious to who she was or what she had become. Her awakening had been akin to what James imagined a newborn baby experienced upon its departure from the womb: a sense of wonder mixed with fear, each sight and sound intimidating and awe-inspiring. Her beauty had been intensified by her change; her pale skin was porcelain and shimmered as the sun danced off it. Without blood, she no longer beckoned to the monster within him, but the man lusted for her, coveted her. She had bolted too quickly; she had known he was a danger on some level. She would never be his now, not in any way. For a moment's pause. sadness crept through him, but he quickly shook it free. No use crying over spilled blood.

But someday... he would find her. Someday. And when he did...

His grin widened as he sought refuge in a small cavern underground. When he found her, he'd decide what he'd do.


	19. Chapter 17: Awakening

_Biloxi, MS, present day_

Alice fidgeted nervously with her cropped leather jacket, her hands seeking some sort of distraction as Jasper sped down the main drag that would carry them past the nursing home where Marianne Anderson now resided. Thankfully, Biloxi had but one such facility, and Carlisle had confirmed her status as a resident through his hospital channels. The weather was cooperative again, dark clouds hanging heavily overhead, a hard rain in the air coming off the gulf coast.

She had no intentions of speaking to her niece; she wouldn't even begin to know how to explain her presence to the woman, let alone conjure a suitable lie about her relation to her. But a part of Alice longed to connect, even by sight alone, with her human life. In a sense, this was her way of saying goodbye to Mary Alice Brandon, and leaving the past behind her for good.

Jasper's hand snaked over her thigh and turned to lie palm up, an invitation she accepted as her tiny hand interlaced with his large one. She'd worried that the weight of the truth might sink her like a stone into a black abyss of sadness and rage once more, something she was sure Jasper had also worried about, but with him at her side, she'd felt secure and strong.

She had always considered herself a powerful and self-sufficient woman, and Alice knew this was true, but all the same, she had never appreciated how much he gave her until she'd tried to do without it. It was a hard lesson learned: she would never attempt something so difficult as this without him again. Things felt far less insurmountable beside him.

"I think that's it over there," Jasper said quietly, breaking Alice's train of thought.

He pulled into the parking lot of the two-level H-shaped complex, cutting the engine as he took up residence in a spot near the exit. Alice scanned the exterior of the home, admiring the well-maintained gardens and cobblestone pathways, the quaint country cottage feel disrupted by the handicapped access ramp with its steel supports.

Out front sat two cast iron picnic benches, upon which two rather old men in bathrobes smoked cigarettes and chattered quietly to themselves, waving occassionally to other residents passing by. It seemed pleasant enough, she supposed, considering the role a nursing home usually played in the lives of humans.

She swung the car door open, stepping out and adjusting her jacket and the scoop neck blouse beneath it. Jasper joined her at her side, the dark blue denim of his jeans just a little too tight in all the right places. Alice made a mental note to buy five more pairs of that style of jeans, simply to admire Jasper's ass in its small but muscular glory. She eyed the chatty old men once more, then glanced up at Jasper, who understood immediately and joined her in approaching them. One whispered to the other as they approached, and Alice swore she caught something about her hips on the wind. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, needing their assistance to complete her mission.

"Hello gentleman. Are you the resident greeters?" Jasper asked playfully.

"Nope, just the old farts who've been here the longest. Right Jones?"

"Aye, Martin. We been here so long that we ought to be running the joint on _senior_ity," Jones chuckled, winking at his play on words.

Alice forced a smile through her nerves, "Then tell me, if you're the wise keepers of the gates: do you know Marianne Anderson?"

Jones smiled and nodded, "Ol' Mary! Now there be a fine lass! Sweetest damn gal in the whole place. Ask Martin!"

Martin blushed, "I do not assume to know what you mean, Jones."

Alice couldn't help but giggle, pressing her hand over her mouth. His blush and averted eyes reminded her somehow of Bella whenever Edward complimented her. That girl was so emotive. In a way. Alice was envious of the added dimension of expression that splash of colour lent to her face.

Jones shook his head, rolling his eyes, "You be kin of ol' Mary's?"

Alice looked at Jasper, who thankfully came to her rescue, "Yes and no. A friend of a grandchild, really. She hasn't been around in a bit and we offered to stop in and check on Marianne on her behalf. Where might we find her?"

Alice's face lit up in relief as Martin replied, "Oh! You must be friends with little Missy. If you head around the back side there, she's tending the gardens on the east side. She does it every morning. You can't miss her; she's still got a full head o' black curls."

"Thank you, gentleman. You've been a huge help," Alice said quietly, anxious to escape the wandering eyes of Jones.

Jasper led the way around the east side of the residence, holding her hand tightly, their arms swinging gently back and forth. Alice prepared mentally, reminding herself that she did not have to speak with Marianne, that this was about seeing her only from somewhat afar.

There was no obligation. She could turn back now and Jasper would happily follow her, as he had for the last 60 years. But deep inside, she knew it had to be done. It was a matter of resolution, of letting go.

She was precisely where Martin had told them they would find her. The petite old woman, dressed in black slacks and a dark green sweater, stood crouching next to a bed of begonias, freshly planted, fussing with the tiny burgeoning blooms.

She was somewhat plump, her hips wide, but her upper torso betrayed the formerly svelte young woman she'd been. She turned towards them, wiping the sweat from her brow, and Alice saw that her eyes were a pale blue-grey, her nose tiny, her mouth heart-shaped and full. The black tangle of waves was wrapped into a loose chignon, strands falling free already at the sides. She smiled and nodded, and returned to her work, her tiny trowel turning over the dark earth.

Alice closed her eyes, bringing her face to mind and holding it there, this elderly woman who, in another life, she would have helped tend to, helped care for and raise. She would not forget her face for as long as she existed. Jasper rubbed her shoulders gently and she slowly opened her eyes, smiling faintly at his concerned face.

"I'm okay. I just want to remember this."

Jasper nodded, "I see the resemblance. She has your nose. The eye shape is all wrong; that must be her father's."

"I also don't have hips that curve like that," Alice noted quietly.

Jasper grinned, "Yours are sexier."

"You're biased."

"And?"

Alice shook her head, chuckling quietly. The old woman continued about her business, placing a tiny begonia into a new hole, burying the roots deeply and patting the earth swiftly to set it. There was a rhythm to the process, a beauty in its simplicity. Alice could feel that a pain struck her as she bent down, her knee locking slightly with each flexion and extension, but her smile did not break.

In the task, Marianne Anderson found a joy. It comforted Alice to see her niece content with life, happily at work, finding a hobby that shone a light upon her face. This was what Alice needed to see; she needed to know that the sadness her parents had surely inflicted on her by deserting her had not carried forth, a spreading disease touching each generation's lives.

"I'm ready now," she whispered quietly, tugging Jasper's hand lightly.

He remained silent, turning with her towards their car, a brisk wind picking up around them. A buried instinct within Alice wanted to go back, wanted to give her jacket to Marianne. It was cold outside. She could catch a flu in this weather. The time they'd spent around Bella, ever aware of her human fragility, had given her a new perspective on the lives of those they walked among each day.

She wondered sometimes how Carlisle could stand it, how he could see so much sickness and misery and death, and still revere life, both human and vampire versions of it. It spoke to his great caring for others, she decided. It was a testament to what made him such a strong father to their motley crew.

Jasper opened her door for her and she thanked him, settling back into the seat and securing the belt across her shoulders, her mind continuing to marvel at the human body and how sensitive it was to damage despite years of evolution and advancements of medicine. Bella was a prime example of how fragile a human could be; how many times had she fallen, cut herself, tangled with a moving vehicle...

"Alice?"

Alice looked up, startled, "I'm sorry Jazz; what's up?"

"I was just asking you which street I needed to turn off onto for the cemetary, love. Are you alright?"

Alice flipped through the notebook in the glove compartment, "I'm okay, truly. You can stop asking. And you're looking for Montgomery Street. It'll be a left from this direction."

Jasper nodded, edging the gas pedal down further, "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about humans, and how fragile they are. The infections, the cuts, the accidents that obliterate their bodies so easily, crumpling bones like paper... I wonder sometimes how Carlisle, knowing his strength as one of us, can stand by and not want to change every suffering person in sight. There must be times when he knows that barring our venom, the person is done for. But he always smiles with us, always enjoys life so fully, and he continues to work, simply for the love of medicine."

"Carlisle is unique among men and vampires; it takes a very strong mind and heart to be as he is. I admire him for it, and try whenever I can to study him, like somehow, that sort of trait will rub off on me through contact. It's foolish, I know..." Jasper's voice trailed off, as he averted his eyes slightly.

"Not at all," Alice objected, "You're not the only one. I think all of us, in a way, try to emulate him."

"I just happen to fail rather miserably at it," Jasper sighed.

"Jasper Whitlock, I call bullshit. Have you had to struggle at all this trip?"

Jasper mumbled his reply, "No..."

Alice crowed triumphantly, "And we've even been in hospital settings, where blood lingers in the air. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm strong with you beside me," he said, a confused look crossing his face as Alice giggled, "What's funny?"

"I was thinking the same thing when we arrived at the home, only that you were _my_ strength. Great minds and all..."

"I'm glad you let me come with you, Alice."

"I'm glad, too."

They drove the rest of the way without speaking, each with a faint smile, the small house and shops flashing by quickly as Jasper edged over the speed limit, taking the turn at Montgomery a little too quickly, causing the tires to squeal. He released the gas, not wanting to lose the car's damage deposit, his eyes trained on the road ahead, mindful that the turn off for the cemetery would be near.

It was Alice who spotted it first, a quick flash of her finger pointing the way down a gravel roadway through a set of aging white arches that welcomed them to Tranquil Hill Cemetery. They paused briefly at the sight of an employee watering the grass, asking for directions to plot 1947D, which led to a pause as he radioed a coworker and debated which direction was the fastest route. Eventually, he threw his hands up, saying he knew it was in the northeast corner, but couldn't figure which road went there quickest.

Jasper thanked him and said he'd manage alone, and sure enough, one false turn and reversal later, they found a suitable place to pull off. Alice felt a strange ache in her chest and winced, wondering if this was what was meant when people said their heart felt broken.

She'd felt something similar in September while they'd departed Forks, Bella's face etched her mind, her vivid imagination picturing how pained she would look when Edward said goodbye. She'd forced herself not to check on her, despite her nagging sense that something was horribly wrong. She knew now that perhaps it was for the best, if this stabbing feeling were what she would have endured. She may have returned to Forks in a rash decision, perhaps trying to change Bella and failing miserably. It was blood she didn't want on her hands, or in her mouth for that matter.

Jasper led the way, weaving through plots, scanning each stone and shaking his head no, moving onwards. Alice followed a few steps behind, clearing her mind, attempting to use her gifts to locate the headstone. In her mind, she saw herself, Jasper kneeling beside her in a curious pose. She studied the trees in the image, how they filled the scene, and the fence surrounding the cemetery property. Opening her eyes, she realized the trouble immediately.

"I think the man was wrong, Jazz. It's northwest corner, not northeast."

Jasper looked back at her, "Saw it, did you?"

Alice nodded, "It's near. Come with me."

He obeyed, weaving as she did through the tombstones large and small, tall and short, her feet treading lightly as if she bore a sense of guilt for intruding. She paused once, her eyes turning to the trees, squinting as if measuring something distant, then continued, veering further west, until she finally stopped short, her gaze locked on a small square stone laying flat in the earth. Jasper stood behind her, wrapping his arms about her as he read her birth name inscribed upon it.

There was no decoration, no meaningful quote or statement; it merely listed her name, date of birth and date of purported death, December 21, 1913. Beside her lay the joint plot for her parents, an enormous erect headstone with a cross adorning it. Jasper kissed her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. Alice said nothing for several minutes, her face blank, her eyes glued to the small area of earth.

"I thought I would be saddened by this," she said at last, barely audible.

"What do you mean?"

Alice swallowed hard, her brow crinkling, "I expected that this would be sad. You know, that this concrete reminder of what my parents chose to do about my visions would just drive home their rejection for me. Or maybe I expected to be sad at the thought that this represents the end of my mortal life, and all the things that would never be for me, like Rosalie speaks of."

Jasper nodded, "Like growing old and having babies?"

Alice nodded, "Rosalie could give or take the old part but yes, the children issue is one Rosalie speaks of a lot. Being immortal as it were, we're also fated to watch everyone we know and love die. Life becomes more of a game of chance when your flesh is vulnerable like it is with humans or animals. I thought that I would feel robbed in some way, or at least wish I had been loved by my parents more unconditionally. But I don't feel that at all."

"What do you feel then?" he whispered in her ear, pulling her tighter against him.

"A part of me thinks of Marianne, and in turn thinks of Bella. I think I understand why she was so angry at the thought that Edward would never turn her. She could see herself as Marianne, see Edward standing at a grave, and I think she felt angry that by leaving her human, she was being forced to have him endure seeing these things. In Bella's twisted logic, she would be hurting him by growing old and dying. I get that now... And I think she's right to be angry. But beyond that, I look at this stone, and in a sense, I'm relieved and grateful. I'm grateful that someone marked my passing at all. I'm grateful to know where I came from, no matter how awful a time it may have been. And I'm relieved because it feels like I've come full circle. The answers are here. The search is over..."

Jasper spun Alice around to face him, his hands moving to her face, holding it gently and tilting it upwards. She strained onto her tiptoes and he leaned in to kiss her, a soft grazing of lips against hers. Her eyes locked onto his and time stood still, more said in that exchanged look than either could ever express aloud in any adequate manner. Jasper's hands fell away, seeking out hers, fingers weaving between fingers.

She was so beautiful, so kind and wise. She was proof that Carlisle was right, that trying to live a decent life as a vampire was worth it, that they were not damned as Edward maintained. No soul damned would be permitted eternity with such a woman at his side.

"Alice, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Jazz."

Jasper looked away, "You're not permitted to laugh or mock me in any way."

Alice shook her head, "I wouldn't do that to you."

Jasper nodded, "Okay... The last few days, I've been thinking about how we met, and how we married so many years ago. At the time, we did it more to give a name to what we already had, which was a perfect union of two souls that understood each other so completely, than any actual specific yearning for a wedding. I remember at the time, you said something, and your face was so... resolved, as if you'd given up on things changing."

Alice tilted her head, "I'm not sure I'm following completely. What did I say?"

"You said, 'I guess it's a good thing we have the Cullens now. It's hard to marry without a last name.' I know that we never would have let it stop us, but it was like the marriage reminded you of what you'd never had. And now, you have that."

Alice nodded, "I do have it. Jazz, what are you asking me here?"

With a slight hesitation, Jasper began to lower himself onto the ground, down to one knee, and suddenly his curious pose in her vision minutes prior made sense. Alice heard herself gasp, staring down in awe as Jasper withdrew the simple gold band he'd placed upon her finger that day in 1961, the one she could seldom wear due to the roles they played in each community, from his jeans pocket with his left hand, his right still clutching her left, his deep amber eyes shyly looking up at her.

"I know we've laughed a hundred times at how many weddings we've attended for Rosalie and Emmett. We've always said that once was enough for us, that the act of being together for all time was all that ever mattered for us. But I wanted to ask you if you would like to do it again, this time with your given name. Because I would happily marry you again, Alice. Choosing you for my wife is the one decision I have never doubted, not for one second of my rather long life. If anything, every smile that crosses your face, every laugh, every frown even makes me more certain. Mary Alice Brandon, will you marry me again?"

Alice felt her strong legs buckle slightly from the shock the poured through her. How had he remembered such a random statement she'd made years ago, one that was made out of a sadness that ran through her at times during their planning, but nothing she had dwelled upon out loud? And yet, he'd known it had bothered her deeply that she could not use her own last name when she'd become Mrs. Whitlock.

This moment, so many years after that fateful night in Philadelphia, was the proof of why he'd been worth waiting for, why the vision of him instilled her with so much hope for her tomorrows. There were no conditions or limits to Jasper's love for her, and she could not choose but love him just as completely. Her jaw, which had hung open from the moment she'd seen his question coming finally closed, her face breaking into a huge smile.

"Jazz, I have your last name. I had the last name of my true family, the one that loves me. Are you sure -"

Jasper kissed her hand, pressing it to his cheek, "I've never been more certain. I'm not thinking elaborate or fancy, Alice. We don't even have to do a new licence. It could be a renewal sort of thing, if that's what you want -"

"And if I want the fancy affair and the monkey suit on you?" Alice asked, her eyebrow raised.

"It's yours."

Alice felt her body trembling as she answered quietly, "The details can wait, but yes, please. Let's be ridiculous like Rose and Emmett. I would love to be your wife a second time."

Jasper grinned, slipping her ring onto her finger, where only her simple princes-cut diamond engagement ring currently resided, one that she easily referred to as a 'promise ring' in school. It had been so long since she'd worn it, the woven pattern of vines embossed upon it, that it felt as if she were wearing it for the first time.

Overcome with happiness in spite of the sober setting of his proposal, Alice tackled Jasper to the ground, his chuckles muffled as she kissed him passionately on the earth, her fingers lost in his shaggy blonde locks. His sturdy arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers grazing her sides in that magic way that turned her insides to jelly and made her mad with sexual tension. She forced herself to remember where they were, and pulled back from his lips, giggling quietly.

"Should we maybe not have sex in the graveyard in the day?"

Jasper pondered this a moment, "You're right. The spirits will see you naked and be incredibly jealous. It's not fair to tease them that way."

Alice slapped his arm, "That's dreadful! Even if it's funny."

In a quick motion, Jasper managed to spring to his feet, still clinging to Alice, who quickly wrapped her legs around his frame as he carried her to the car, "I'm here to amuse and charm, ma'am. Do I provide that?"

Alice nuzzled against his shoulder, "You do indeed. Hey Jazz?"

"Yes?"

"How much are you going to owe Emmett for losing this bet?"

Jasper stopped short, "How did you know-?"

Alice laughed, "You bet on everything with him. How much?"

"A lot," Jasper evasively mumbled.

"How much?"

"Far less than what you are worth to me," he answered this time, sitting her on the hood of the car and leaning into to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh.

Alice moaned softly, fighting the distraction, "No... god... hey! No really, how much?"

"Five thousand," Jasper begrudgingly answered, flicking his tongue across her earlobe.

"Jasper!" Alice admonished.

"I was sure it wouldn't happen then," he said, giving her the biggest set of puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen.

Alice gave in and laughed, "You know I can't be mad at you. That is all coming out of _your_ savings though."

"Which I have plenty of, thanks to a certain woman's talents and the stock market."

"Even still... Never that much again," she whispered, kissing his nose.

"Not unless I'm betting on loving you forever."

"It's a deal. Shall we?"

Jasper swooped her from the hood of the car, carrying her to her door and depositing her safely into her seat. With a quick kiss he shut the door, jumping over the hood to reach the driver's side, slipping into the car and kissing her again before starting the engine.

With each minute passing, the distance between her and her hometown growing, Alice felt lighter, freer than she'd ever been before. There was nothing left to haunt her now, no ghosts unseen but felt, tugging at her spirit and refusing to leave her in peace.

She knew who she had been, but more importantly, she knew who she was and where she belonged, and it wasn't here in Mississippi. Her home lay where her heart lay, and that was with the tall blonde Southern gentleman beside her, and her mish-mashed family in Ithaca. Her hand found his leg, and he covered it with his, kicking the car into cruise control as they hit the interstate.

"I love you, Jazz."

Jasper smiled, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, "Impossibly and forever?"

She nodded, curling her body against his, the fit as perfect as the love they shared, "Impossibly and forever."


	20. Epilogue: Serendipity

_Forks, WA, 9 months later_

The older man sat quietly in the somewhat small room in the highest level of the stately old house, gazing out onto the expansive land behind the home, watching as an ever-growing crowd of pale, beautiful creatures talked, sparred and planned in vain. His eyes were dark, pearly ruby overtones giving them a slightly sinister tint. He ran a hand through his deep brown locks - the work of a bottle of dye - and sighed, settling into a comfortable antique chair at a desk.

What had he gotten himself into?

He hadn't seen Carlisle Cullen in nearly a hundred years when he'd shown up at his small home in North Dakota, unannounced and unexpected. His dazzling smile and flowing blonde locks were an armour, a mask; his eyes betrayed a dread he had not seen from his casual friend and sometime role model. He'd permitted him ten minutes to explain his purpose, his mind scanning constantly for the feel of any intruders that might have followed him here. He'd worked extremely hard to remain remote and out of touch with the others of his kind, out of necessity.

Vampires, much like humans, were far too chatty, and it was of the utmost concern that his whereabouts remain secret to as many people as possible. Blast that bastard vampire in Chicago for remembering him! And yet, he'd missed Carlisle's patient wisdom and clarity, missed their philosophical debates on what they were and what they were capable of becoming. It was he who had made him believe it possible to save...

_No. You musn't go there. The son will know._

Carlisle had stressed the urgency of the request, had beseeched him on the grounds of every favour he had done for his friend so long ago, beseeched him to simply come witness the strange events in Forks, with the promise that he was free to depart whenever he desired, without any hard feelings.

He'd reluctantly agreed, and spent the journey back catching up on a century's lost time, filling in the blanks of the patchwork story on the grapevine of the Cullen coven, one of the largest ever known, the largest 'vegetarian' coven for certain.

Carlisle spoke of his wife, the woman he'd loved since patching up her leg in her teens, and how he'd found her near death. He told of his son, Edward, of how he'd been begged for aid by the boy's dying mother, of how lonely he'd been before his change, and of the daughter Rosalie, and his regrets with her. The story of Edward's new bride had fascinated him as well; it had hit home to a time in his life, where the blood of a human had demanded his attention, had beckoned to him like no other, and how he'd summoned the strength to resist. At least, until it was necessary -

_No. The boy hears thoughts. Silence._

The adopted daughter and son, the one with the visions, had intrigued him most. Her journey of decades to land at their door seemed almost a fairytale ending, a near impossible uniting of family under curious circumstance that had worked out happily. The struggling son, her mate, elicited a sympathetic nod from him; he'd attempted many a time to convert to Carlisle's ways, but had ultimately failed to stay on the proverbial wagon. He did his best, resisting as well as he could, but gave in when he could take it no longer. Usually, he targeted the homeless and sick, those suffering and perhaps seeking a final rest from their misery. Often, they resembled the young girl he'd once known, an unconscious action on his part. He had never seen her again.

That is, until he stepped inside the Cullen residence, greeted by her photo on the wall.

If a vampire needed oxygen to survive, the breath would have been knocked out of him at the sight. She wore make-up and her hair was in haphazard yet stylish curls, but there was no mistaking that playful child's smile or that tiny frame. How had his Alice ended up here? Could the universe arrange such a strange twist of fate as this, the eventual meeting of the daughter he'd longed to have and the one he'd originally planned to change her?

Beside her in the photo stood a rather tall, lithe but muscular blonde man, hair tumbling slightly into his eyes, the protective stance of his arms about her telling him all he needed to know about his role in her life. Carlisle had paused beside him, admiring the photo wistfully.

"That's our Alice and her husband Jasper. They're the two that adopted us almost 60 years ago. Strange how her visions carried her to perfect strangers, especially given her complete loss of memory. I just hope they're alright, wherever they are..."

"They're missing?"

Carlisle frowned, "Not exactly. Alice departed when the trouble started, but something tells me that a vision indicated it was safest for her to leave. I know I've heard Rosalie mutter that she cut out to save herself, that she'd seen us doomed - talk that Edward quickly halted - but I think that whatever Alice saw, it was best for us all that she depart. In any case, Alistair, allow me to introduce you to the rest of the family. Edward? Bella? Esme?"

The man rose from the chair, pacing anxiously. He'd instinctively known that the small child-like creature might be able to transfer some semblance of his recognition of Alice to the father. Edward, and had thus shunned her. He'd agreed to be a witness, strictly to end the conversation and find some time to reflect on his own, far from the mind reader.

Mulling over the mess that the Cullens had found themselves in, he'd begun to realize that the Volturi would not be appeased if a hundred witnesses stood by Carlisle's side. If the Volturi were mounting their forces in such a grand fashion, it was their attention to destroy the Cullens, and any reason would suffice now. Those who stood in the way would be mere cannon fodder. There was no safety here.

His long fingers slid beneath the cool silk of the shirt he wore, feeling the slight imperfections that marred much of his torso and limbs from the fire years ago. He'd recovered well from the injuries, the speed of the fall and connection with cooling earth sparing him much permanent damage. It had taken him four days to locate the spot where he'd left his Alice to burn and change, and by the time he'd arrived, she was nowhere to be found, nor was the Hunter who'd sought her. He'd tracked her for several days, losing her at last in Ohio and resolving that she'd either met her unfortunate end at the Hunter's hands or was simply not meant to be found.

Heartbroken, he resolved to never again form attachments to anyone, human or vampire, and had roamed the Americas as a nomad, restless and lonely. His books were his friends, as were newspapers, which he diligently followed. He'd occassionally cross paths with another nomad, and they'd pass along the whisperings among their kindred.

It was these brief exchanges that had left a trail for Carlisle to follow, the trail that had brought him here to where his Alice lived, loved and embraced by a family she'd found through glimpses and instincts.

He needed to make a decision. Something in his core sensed the battle was soon, and he also sensed that Alice would return for it, ultimately knowing she had to stand by her kin. He had the chance to see her again, to look upon the face that haunted his days with regret and hope that she'd had a happy life after her awakening. Mentally, he ran down a checklist, weighing each item carefully.

Would there be a battle? Most certainly, witnesses or not; he'd heard enough whispers of Volturi corruption to know it to be so.

Would they win? Alistair felt this rather unlikely. The Volturi possessed methodical and evil talents in its ranks, and came staffed with an incredibly large number. They would be swarmed.

Would his presence matter? Unlikely. He was strong but old, and remained slightly weakened from the battle with the Hunter years ago. He possessed no special skills for combat.

Should he remain to see Alice, and speak with her?

This question gave him serious pause. From all accounts, Alice seemed to be content with her life with the Cullens, oblivious to the torments she'd suffered as a young girl in Mississippi. She was loved and cared for, and married as well.

Whatever had happened to her upon awakening in the earth and grass in northern Mississippi, she had eventually found her way to happiness and peace, even if it was now threatened by the Volturi's agenda. Would it benefit her in any way to learn of her past, to know who had changed her so many years ago? She didn't need a father; she had one, a wonderful one, to be fair. Alistair could never aspire to be as great of a figure in her life as Carlisle Cullen.

There was no reason to remain here and die, then.

But there was a reason to survive: if Alice and her mate did not return for the battle, but returned after the dust had settled and found the worst, she would need a new family. She would need someone who could tell her stories of Carlisle in his early years. She would need all the protection she could muster, particularly if the Volturi sought her skills and were put out to not find her in the fray. And that was where he could come in. That was the role he could play in the mess to come.

Alistair rose from his chair, resolved in his actions. Before she returned, lest she remember him somehow on sight, before the Volturi were near enough to track him down, Alistair needed to leave Forks. He needed to retreat, and keep his ear to the ground. It wasn't for lack of friendship that he would leave; it was his deep respect and gratitude to Carlisle for welcoming his Alice into his home that he needed to be the second wave of protection for her. Someday, perhaps he would explain it to them. If they made it through.

Alistair slowly made his way from the attic, moving quietly down the wooden staircase, taking the turn towards the large main staircase, mentally rehearsing his departing speech. He passed a door ajar, and found the scent lingering within beckoning him forth. Searching the area for spying eyes, he entered quietly, his eyes drinking in the eccentric decor of the suite, a mix of stars and suns as the theme, the antique bed in the centre adorned with handwoven silk sheets and a gorgeous set of throw blankets. To his right lay a desk, the belongings on it a state of organized chaos, papers and photographs strewn every which way.

One in particular caught his eye, and he picked it up gingerly, examining it closely.Alice was holding the vampire child, her smile brilliant, her pale blue sweater and dark grey slacks perfectly fit to her petite body. Beside her lazed Jasper, sprawled on his left side, head propped up on his elbow, watching the interaction. To one unknowing, it would be the perfect family portrait, a moment frozen in time, the essence of a keepsake album.

Alistair smiled, the blue of her sweater reminding him of the dress he'd left her in, the one he'd bought for her journey. The forested setting and nearby river, seen in the very background of the shot, added a surreal storybook quality to the image. It was Alice in a Wonderland, one she'd waited far too long to find. Alistair half expected a rabbit to cross the shot, proclaiming itself late.

He pocketed the photo quickly, justifying this as his consolation for never seeing her in the flesh. It would be his souvenir, his reminder of the one thing he'd truly done right. He'd given her a new life, one far from the misunderstanding ward and parents who had walked away, one where she found a family that cherished her visions as the gifts they were, one that appreciated her child-like ways and intelligence. He hoped to be wrong about the coming war with the entourage from Italy. He hoped he would never need to meet Alice Cullen, for it would mean the end of her sanctuary here.

"Time to go, old man," he whispered, steeling himself.

With one last deep inhale of the scent he'd known and loved so long ago, Alistair walked downstairs to do what most parents never manage to fully do. He let his daughter go.


End file.
